Take a Breath
by AminalLuv
Summary: Sequel to Skip a Beat.  Rory and Logan are finally starting their lives together, but they'll soo find out that it takes more than two to make a family.
1. Welcome to New York

**AN: Well guys, I know it's been a long time, but I promised you a sequel to Skip a Beat and I'm finally delivering. Sure, I have 2 other stories going on--but what's one more? Besides, there are only a few chapters of LAWKI left. For those of you readding this, who have never read Skip a Beat, I recommend trying that one out before embarking on this tale. Happy reading.**

* * *

Logan lay in bed; a beautiful body pressed up against his side, a long, slender leg wedged between his own, and a bare arm tossed over his torso. He let his fingers graze ever so slightly over the soft, pale skin of said arm, all the way down to the perfectly manicured hand that was splayed on his chest. Of all the wonderfully naked body parts to admire (and admire them he did), at the moment it was this hand—the only part of her body that wasn't completely bare—that most captivated him. The diamonds sparkled brilliantly in all their flawless glory—and believe him, they were flawless; he had made sure of that. His Ace deserved nothing but the best.

He was still amazed that she had said yes. Sure, she loved him—she had given up on another engagement with a man she truly cared about for him, she had agreed to live with him, she had uprooted her life and moved across state lines just to be with him. He had, of course, believed that she would say yes or he never would have put himself on the line like that—but it didn't stop him from being amazed. Everything about this woman amazed him.

The fact that he had the rest of his life to experience mornings like this only made it more special—not less. It was truly an almost perfect moment—almost—except for one small thing—that growing sensation in his lower abdomen that was becoming almost painful. Damn, he hated his bladder; he never should have had that champagne last night.

He sighed in defeat, surrendering to this primal urge. He very carefully untangled their legs and lifted her arm just enough to slip out of her grasp, then gently set it back down. He paused for a moment to watch her as she snuggled into the mattress, before making his way to the bathroom. He reemerged a minute later, ready to get back into bed with his wife-to-be.

"I missed you," came a sleepy voice the moment he transferred his weight back to the mattress.

"You're awake," he chuckled.

"No," she mumbled, as she once again intertwined her body with his.

"So you talk in your sleep now? I'm not sure I can live with that, I may have to rethink this whole arrangement," he teased.

"Coffee."

"Your other lover?"

"Not awake, no coffee," she replied tersely.

"Ahh, I see," he answered back, laughing slightly at how adorable she was. "I could get you some," he offered, leaning over to place a soft kiss to her lips, "but for that you'd have to get off of me."

She paused mid breath, seemingly contemplating this trade-off, before exhaling and pushing her body even further on top of his. "No."

"Well then I can't really do anything about the coffee situation, can I?" he reminded her.

"Coffee later, sleep now."

"Well, I can understand that—you must be exhausted after last night; it's not easy keeping up with a young, hot, virile man such as myself," he smirked, and though she could not see it with her face buried in his chest, she could hear it in the tone of his voice.

She turned her head so that her ear lay flat over his heart, and let out a sigh, finally resigning herself to the fact that she was awake. "You, mister, are past your prime," she informed him mater-of-factly, poking her index finger into his chest. "Whereas I still have _years_ before I hit my sexual peak. We'll see who has trouble keeping up with who when we're in our thirties."

"Excuse me?" he asked incredulously. "Passed my sexual prime?" He gaped at her, astonished that she would say such a thing.

"It's a scientific fact," she argued, moving her hand under her chin and propping her head up to look at him. "Men reach their sexual prime in their late teens. Women don't peak until their mid-thirties."

"I can't believe you would say that. I'm _prime," _he insisted, propping himself up on his elbows and staring back down at her. "I am prime and ready and you better not forget it."

"It's OK baby. You don't have to prove anything to me," she teased, trying to force herself to keep a straight face. "I'd love you even if you were a eunuch."

"A eunuch? Seriously? You're really going for broke this morning aren't you?"

"So what if by the time our wedding night comes around, you'll be so far from your peak you'll never be able to consummate the marriage," she continued. "I won't hold it against you."

"Oh, I'll consummate," he growled angrily, flipping them over. "I'll show you how well I'll consummate. I'll consummate until _you_ can't even walk straight anymore." He positioned his body above hers with one arm while he reached out to the nightstand with the other to pull the top drawer open. "Where the _hell_ are to condoms?" he asked angrily as he desperately shifted through the contents of the drawer.

Rory lay below him with a highly amused smile on her face. After a moment she decided to put her fiancé out of his misery and she gently grasped his arm to still his motions. "Logan," she said, trying desperately to contain her giggles. "The other drawer," she pointed towards the nightstand on the other side of the bed.

Logan stopped his frantic search and looked down at her—eyes glimmering with the laughter she was holding in. That little…she'd done it on purpose. She wanted to provoke him. Well, two could play that game. He rolled off of her and swung his legs over the bed, sitting up. "Well, I guess I should get up then—we've got a long day ahead of us."

"Logan," she cried. "Logan, where the heck do you think you're going?"

"To brush my teeth." He stood up, stretching his arms above his head and letting her stare at him in all his naked glory.

"But you were…" she pointed at him. "And we were…" she pointed at the bed.

He turned to face her and shrugged his shoulders. "I got over it. Must be because I'm so far passed my sexual prime."

She gaped at him incredulously. "Get back here, mister." She sat up and grasped for his arm, pulling him tumbling back onto the bed.

"So, you're that hot for me, are you?" he teased, pulling himself into position to place a soft kiss on her lips.

"You're incorrigible, you know that?"

He kissed her neck, his hand running along the curve of her breast, "Guess that means pretty soon you'll be Mrs. Incorrigible."

Her only reply was a soft moan as he took her hardened nipple in his mouth. A lifetime of mornings just like this—he was definitely looking forward to that.

* * *

The doorbell rang and Rory paused, midway through pouring the Tostitos into a big bowl. She dropped the bag on the counter without a second thought and grabbed Logan's hand. "They're here," she said excitedly, yanking him out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

"You don't know that for sure—we invited a lot of people here tonight," he reminded her, trying desperately to slow her down. "It is a house warming party after all."

"The party doesn't start for another hour. The only other person who would show up so early is Finn, and he's been sitting on our couch tormenting us for the last forty-five minutes," she reminded him, cocking her head to the side and pointing in the direction of the Australian who was currently hollering at the soccer players on their plasma screen TV. "He's not getting a key," she added as an after thought.

"Well, OK, so it's _probably_ you're Mom and Luke," he relented, not bothering to comment on Finn—him not having a key was pretty much a given. "But that doesn't mean we have to tell them right away. I mean, wouldn't it be more fun to surprise them with the announcement along with everyone else—you know, when there's a large crowd to slow them down."

Rory stopped and turned to face her fiancé, taking both his hands in hers and linking their fingers together. "Logan, I promise it'll be OK. Mom hasn't hated you in a really long time—she almost likes you now."

"Yeah, that makes me feel so much better," he sighed.

"You know what I mean," she replied. "And as for Luke, he doesn't blame you for breaking up Jess and me. He gets that it wasn't meant to be. He just wants to see me happy. _You_ make me happy."

Logan sighed. "Fine, but I'm using you as a human shield."

"Wimp," she muttered, but smiled and proceeded to the door, swinging it open to the sight of her mother and step-father.

"Mom!" she cried excitedly, jumping into Lorelai's arms. "Guess what?" she asked, pulling back from the hug.

"You've learned how to off your enemies with bone-crushing hugs?" Lorelai ventured.

Rory rolled her eyes.

"No? Alright, let me try again. You've made plans to hike Mt. Everest?"

"Mom, be serious."

"OK, alright, it's not the Himalayas. Oh, I got it this time—you're getting married."

Rory looked at her mother in shock. "How did you—"

"Well, for starters, I almost thought I was getting a deep-tissue massage when you hugged me, the way that rock of yours dug into my shoulder." Lorelai turned to Logan. "It's about time. Do you know how hard it is to keep something like that a secret for so long?"

"It was week, Lorelai." Logan shook his head at his soon to be mother-in-law.

"A week of practical torture. Luke had to tie me down and disconnect all the phones last Wednesday so I wouldn't give in and call her. Of course, the tying me down part actually turned out pretty good as you can imagine…"

"Lorelai," Luke grunted.

"…You two kids should give it a try some time."

"Mom!"

"Ignore her." Luke stepped forward and gave Rory a quick, only slightly awkward hug. "Congratulations." He released Rory from his grasp and held his hand out for Logan. "Remember what we talked about," he said, giving Logan a slightly intimidating look and a nod.

Logan chuckled. "I will. Come on in guys," he moved aside and motioned for Luke and Lorelai to enter, noticing they were still in the foyer. "Can I get you two anything to drink."

"Oh no," Rory interrupted before Lorelai had a chance to ask for her signature martini. "Don't think we're through here." She turned to Logan. "What did she mean 'it's about time'?"

Logan shrugged his shoulders. "I guess she just knows we're made for each other."

"Pft," Rory rolled her eyes. "Yeah right."

"Ouch."

She turned to her mother next. "You weren't the least bit surprised, why weren't you surprised?"

"Oh honey, you should know better. You're getting hitched to a proper man of society—they do gentlemanly yet archaic things like asking for your hand in marriage."

Rory looked at Logan with a stunned expression. "You asked her for my hand in marriage?"

"Maybe," Logan replied with a sheepish smile. "Ow!" he screeched as she slapped him across the shoulder. "What was that for?"

"I can't believe you." Sure, her first reaction was that it had been sweet and thoughtful, but then she remembered the way he had been acting right before they opened the door—and on and off all day as well.

"Are you _serious? _You're mad about this?"

"Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight," Lorelai sing-songed.

"You made me think you were really freaked out about telling them. Why would you do that? Why would lie about that?"

"I wanted you to get to tell them. I thought you would prefer it if you didn't know they already knew." Logan glared at Lorelai.

"Who else did you tell? Dad? Grandma and Grandpa? I know Colin and Finn know because Finn has been calling me 'the little missus,' all afternoon."

"I didn't tell your Dad _or_ your grandparents. And you know it's impossible to keep anything from Finn, I can't be held accountable for that," he argued.

Rory sighed. "Fine, but then I get to tell Sue. And we probably _should_ tell Dad and Grandma and Grandpa when they get here, before we make the official announcement--what?" she asked looking at Logan's guilty expression.

"I kind of, might of, had Sue help me pick out the ring," he had the decency to look sheepish.

"You are unbelievable."

"But that was over two months ago," he quickly added. "She didn't know when I was going to ask, I swear."

"Two months?"

"Yeah."

"You've been planning this for two months?"

"Well, I wanted it to be right," he defended—not quite sure what he even had to be sorry for—but whatever it was, he would just apologize and be appropriately regretful because he was whipped and he wasn't afraid to admit it.

"We've only been back together for four."

"And I knew long before that, that if you ever gave me a second chance I wouldn't let you go again."

Rory just stared at him for a moment before finally smiling and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a slow, sweet kiss.

"Someone's getting laid tonight," Lorelai sang as the two continued their kiss.

"Oh geez," Luke turned his head, nervously tapping his foot. "Is it over yet?"

* * *

Several hours later, the announcement had been made and what had started as a house warming party had turned into an engagement party.

Rory never thought she would get tired of hearing people congratulate her, but it had finally happened. When did they get so many friends? Of course Emily Gilmore hadn't congratulated her—no, Emily Gilmore had offered her 'best wishes;' plus the name of her florist, dress designer, caterer, _and_ calligrapher.

"Where's the old ball and chain?" Rory looked up at the source of the voice and smiled.

"I thought I was the ball and chain."

"Traditionaly, yes. But you know I was never one for tradition," Sue answered as she reached around Rory to grab a chip out of the bowl that was on the counter behind her.

"Yes, I think you demonstrated that quite clearly last Christmas when you requested that the choir singers at your church sing Adam Sandler's Chanukah song."

"Can you believe they didn't know the words?"

"How shocking!" Rory exclaimed, holding her hands to her heart in mock shock.

"So, are you actually getting married this time? Because I don't want to have to pay for another bride's maid dress if the best man isn't going to get the opportunity to rip it off of me in a coat closet while the rest of the party is doing the Electric Slide."

Rory laughed. "You do remember that you have a boyfriend, right?"

Sue shrugged her shoulders. "So?"

Rory decided to try another tactic. "And you realize there's a 50/50 chance the best man will be Finn, don't you?"

Sure scowled "Only 50/50?"

"Sue!"

"What?" she shrugged again, turning around to spot the subject of their conversation in the crowd—he was currently laughing about something with Colin and Logan and Sue thought for a moment that he had caught her looking, but he continued on as though nothing had happened. "He's hot."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Don't let him catch you saying that or you'll never hear the end of it."

"Don't worry, I'm a discreet ogle-er. Besides, I just like to look."

Rory laughed. "And when did looking ever hurt anyone?" Rory agreed.

"Exactly." A slightly uncomfortable silence followed. "So, can I get a better look at that mine-field on your finger?"

Rory smiled, holding out her left hand.

"Yep, I knew it was the one for you the moment I saw it—"Sue remarked, taking Rory's hand and examining it closely. "You're lucky I was generous enough to help Logan pick it out."

"Yes, because I'm sure Logan would have gotten me something horribly atrocious otherwise."

"Well, I wasn't going to be the one to say it." There was another silence. "What? Stop doing that."

"It's just…I'm going to miss you," Rory replied sincerely.

Sue scoffed. "Well then, maybe you should have thought of that before you ran off to New York with your boy-toy."

Rory continued, not deterred by Sue's attempts to make light of the fact that they would no longer be seeing each other on a regular basis. "I'm going to miss your sarcasm and your bluntness, your witty remarks and the way you can never mind your own business."

Sue turned away slightly, tapping her foot uncomfortably. "Will you stop that Gilmore. You're getting all sentimental on me. I don't do good-byes."

"Oh come on. Admit it—you know you want to."

"Fine," Sue relented, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I'm going to miss you too—are you happy now?"

Rory threw her arms around her friend—hugging her with a vice-tight grip.

"Hate to break up this kinky girl-on-girl action here, loves," they were interrupted. "But we just need a minute.

Rory and Sue broke apart and turned to Finn. "What is it Finn?" Rory asked, her voice full of exasperation.

"Well, it seems we've had a bit of an accident," he admitted, stepping aside.

"Tim? What the hell happened to your shirt?" Sue asked, looking at the huge red stain down the front of her boyfriends top.

"Well doll, I may have accidentally bumped the poor sod while I was showing off my amazing dancing skills. Red wine all over the place. Now personally, red wine has never been much my taste; I prefer something a bit more—manly. But that's really besides the point."

"What exactly _is_ the point Finn?"

"Well, our boy Tim, here," he said, turning to grin widely at the other man, "needs something to change into."

"Well I'd offer him one of my shirts, but I'm afraid it would probably be too small in the waist," Rory rolled her eyes.

"That's OK, love—I think I left one of my shirts with Logan. If you don't mind, I'll just have a look around upstairs and see if I can find it for him."

Rory sighed; she really didn't want to deal with this right now but she couldn't stop imagining all the trouble Finn could get into in their bedroom unsupervised. "You can look through the closet, but stay out of the drawers," she ordered.

"Of course," he said, giving his best innocent smile and turning to walk away, Tim in tow. Rory had a feeling she was going to regret this.

"You do know that in an hour all the guys will be lined up outside of your bathroom ready to shell out a dollar just to look at your underwear—right?"

"Yeah Sue," Rory groaned. "I know."

* * *

"Umm, I think it's time to go." Sue turned away from her conversation with Rory once again to look at her boyfriend.

"Oh my god," Sue chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand, trying to hold back the full on laughter. "I thought you were going to change into one of Finn's shirts."

"Oh, I did. He just forgot to mention that the shirt he had left with Logan was part of his boarding school uniform back in 1995."

Sue took a step back, taking in Tim's entire—look. The shirt was a pale blue button up with the "Andover" emblem emblazoned on it. It ended about two inches above his belly button and there where gaping holes between the buttons where the fabric stretched across his chest. "He sure has grown a lot since then," she smirked.

"This isn't funny, Sue."

"No, of course it isn't," she shook her head, a few more chuckles escaping through. "What about your shirt? It may have been stained but it's got to be better than this."

"Don't ask," he replied seriously.

"Ooh, that's ominous."

He just glared at her.

"Well couldn't you have borrowed one of Logan's shirts?"

"I don't know, Finn disappeared and I wasn't about to just take something out of their closet."

Sue turned to Rory, and shook her head, laughing at her boyfriend's ridiculousness.

"Tim, go back upstairs and help yourself to a shirt that fits you," Rory offered.

"I appreciate that Rory, but I really think we should go." He turned his gaze to Sue. "It's a long drive back to Philly and it's late, and I've already made a humungous ass out of myself."

Sue looked from her boyfriend's pleading face to her best friend. "Don't think you're getting rid of me this easily. I'll be harassing your cell phone and e-mail every day."

"I wouldn't expect any less."

The two friends embraced again. "It's the first day of the rest of your life, Gilmore-soon-to-be-Huntzberger. I hope it was a good one."


	2. New City, Old Friends

Rory trudged down the stairs, the scent of coffee guiding her to the kitchen. She paused in the doorway, leaning back against the frame and taking in the sight before her—Logan was standing over the stove dressed in his suit pants and an undershirt, scrambling a pan full of eggs and sizzling some bacon.

He looked up from his current task and caught sight of his smiling fiancée. "What?" he asked, trying to ignore the expanse of silky, white skin stretching out from below the hem of the over-sized Yale t-shirt she had donned; they both had to get to work soon; there was no time for dirty thoughts which would inevitably lead to dirty actions.

"I've groomed you well," she said, moving forward into the kitchen, and pulling a stool out from under the breakfast bar to sit in. "Coffee," she demanded, but followed it up with a sweet smile and a bat of her eyelashes—and what the eyelashes asked for, the eyelashes got. He turned away from the stove just long enough to fill a mug with coffee and deliver it directly into her awaiting hands.

"Thank you," she said giddily, as a small child receiving a cookie. She brought the steaming, black liquid to her mouth, took a sip and sighed as it trickled down her throat.

He made his way back to the stove, but kept his eyes on her as her eyes rolled back in her head and the tiny sound of bliss emanated from her lips. "My pleasure," he chuckled, pouring the eggs onto a couple of plates, and scooping the bacon out of the pan to lie beside them. He brought the plates over to the breakfast bar and set one in front of her and one next to her. He reached across for a quick kiss, before making his way around to join her.

"Mmm," she moaned as she swallowed a large mouthful of eggs.

"Good?"

"Well, you're no Luke, but –and Mom would likely disagree with me here—you're much cuter. Plus, Luke has a firm "no shoes, no pants, no service" policy. I think he enacted it after Mom tried to get coffee from the dinner while wearing only his flannel."

Logan laughed. "Well, I'm more than happy to service…I mean _serve_ you while you're pants-less," he replied.

"I bet you are," she teased, swallowing another bite of egg.

Logan laughed and shook his head amusedly, before starting on his own plate. There were a few minutes of silence before Logan spoke again. "Sooo," he drawled out.

"Soooo," Rory repeated mockingly.

"I was just thinking…"

"Trying something new?"

"You haven't had enough coffee yet if you're resorting to comebacks that clichéd," Logan replied.

"Sorry, oh 'Come Back King,'" she teased with a roll of her eyes. "You were saying?"

"I was saying…" he shot her a glare. "That I think someone's been feeling a little unloved lately."

Rory scoffed. "Believe me; you get _more_ than enough love. In fact, I think I'm spoiling you. I might have to start cutting back if you're not duly appreciative," she warned.

"God, no, I'm appreciative, I'm appreciative," he quickly assured her.

She grinned triumphantly. "Good boy." She patted him on the head in mock condescension.

"I was actually talking about Frank."

"Oh, well he gets plenty of love too; there's just something about a guy in a chauffer's hat that just...mmm" she grunted, her eyes closed for emphasis.

"Eww, Ace. The guy's got a kid in college."

"Well, I was hoping if I mentally scarred you enough, you'd stop trying to bring this subject up. I've told you a hundred times already that I am not taking the car to work when the subway will take me straight there."

"But the subway is dirty and crowded and there are creepy, homeless guys who will try to feel you up. Plus, it takes forever because you have to change trains twice, and did you know that they say the hand rails may someday lead to an outbreak of plague?"

"OK, that's it. I'm not letting you watch Coyote Ugly anymore; I don't care if watching Piper Perabo dance on a bar puts you in the mood."

"Aaaaace," he whined.

She sighed frustratedly. "Logan, I'm serious. There's nothing wrong with the subway; millions of people take it all the time."

"Exactly."

She ignored his comment and moved on. "Besides, driving their in morning rush hour would probably take twice as long."

"Well, maybe you should have considered that when you turned down _my_ job offer, which is much closer—plus with the added bonus of working with _me,"_ he smirked.

"And what's a chance to work at The Times compared to _that_?" she replied sarcastically.

"Barely holds a candle compared to working for your wonderful, charming, sexy fiancé."

"Yeah, sure, you keep telling yourself that," she laughed, swallowing the last bite of her breakfast and pushing her stool away from the counter. "I'm going to go get dressed, so I can head to work, far away from you, on the dirty subway where I will most likely get accosted _and_ contract a deadly ancient disease." She smiled at him, before leaning in for a quick, chaste kiss, then heading back to their room. "Have a good day a work," she threw back over her shoulder as she disappeared up the stairs.

* * *

"Ooooh, oooh!" Lorelai screeched excitedly over the phone. "Page fourteen, top row, third from the left."

Rory dragged the mouse to the navigation bar at the top of the screen and clicked on page fourteen, as per her mother's request, simultaneously lifting her turkey sandwich to her mouth. "Mom," she scolded through her mouth full of food. "Be serious."

"I am serious. Serious about seeing your grandmother's face when you wed Hartford's most eligible bachelor in that dress."

"It's not even technically a dress, it's two pieces."

"I know."

"And the top piece is a corset, which looks more like what I plan on wearing _under _the dress."

"Well, you could save Logan a lot of trouble in the honeymoon suite later on by just wearing that."

"For the last time, no." Rory rolled her eyes at her mother through the phone line.

"But your grandmother will have an aneurism if you wear it."

"We're trying to design _my_ perfect day, not yours, Mom. Besides, Grandma will probably have an aneurism just knowing I was looking at dresses on David's Bridal."

"Well Shira, then. It will piss off Shira and I know how that appeals to you."

"I'm marrying her son. I could show up in the perfect Vera Wang of her choosing and she'd _still_ be pissed off just because I was the one wearing it."

Lorelai huffed audibly over the phone line and Rory could just picture her mother's child-like pout. "You're no fun."

"Nope, no fun at all. I'm just a regular 'Bridzilla,' Rory confirmed with a laugh. "And I'm going to continue being no fun by hanging up now. My lunch break is just about over; I should get back to work."

"I don't think you're my child. There must have been a mix up at the hospital when you were born and they switched my real flesh and blood with you, a lonely gypsy orphan."

"Good bye, Mom." Rory hung up the phone, but continued to stare dreamily at the wedding dresses on her screen. She'd never been like this during the engagement with Jess. She'd been happy, yeah, but she'd never stared longingly at dresses and daydreamed about walking down the aisle in them. She'd never found herself absently humming the wedding march, or contemplating the pros and cons of every flower she saw, wondering how it would look in her wedding bouquet. This was right; there was no doubt about it.

"I like that one," a girl's voice broke through Rory's trance, and she looked around to see one of her co-workers, Marcy, pointing at the screen. Marcy was a few years old than Rory. They had spoken a few times, and she seemed nice enough. Rory followed Marcy's finger to a dress on the screen. It was a strapless, a-line, pure white dress with a champagne colored flower at the waist which gave way to a cascading, champagne colored sash built right into the dress.

Rory smiled. "It's gorgeous."

"Although, if I was you I definitely go for custom made. Not to sound incredibly presumptuous, but it seems like you could afford it," Marcy nodded towards her left hand.

Rory blushed slightly, before fingering her ring with a smile. Marcy had stated it so simply; just a fact, no judgment inferred. She wondered if it would be different if Marcy knew exactly who her fiancé was. It wasn't exactly that Rory was hiding it; she just wasn't going out her way to make it known either. Sure, life at The Liberty had gotten easier after word had gotten out, but this was different. This wasn't one of Logan's papers—it was the Times, and though she wasn't ashamed of Logan by any means, she wanted to be known for her own merits. Rory had made a decision when she started her new job—she wouldn't lie, or dodge any questions, but she would also only say enough to answer people's questions. She turned to Marcy with a smile.

"I probably will; I'm just trying to get ideas."

"Do you have a date set?"

"January 10," Rory smiled brightly, just thinking of her wedding day.

"A winter wedding."

"There's this thing with snow—I think it's inherited. We Gilmore women really love the snow."

"I bet it will be beautiful."

Rory bit her lip excitedly and nodded. "I'm sorry, I'm being all sappy and stuff, I'm not usually like this."

"Please," Marcy scoffed. "If there's one thing you're allowed to be all sappy over, it's your wedding day.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Alright, well I guess we should get back to work. It was good talking to you."

"You too," Rory replied with a smile, waving goodbye as Marcy walked off across the office.

* * *

Logan made his way out of the meeting he'd just had with the Sports editors to discuss coverage of the upcoming NBA playoffs. He looked down at his watch; it was almost 12:15; he had about 45 minutes before his scheduled meeting with arts and entertainment. Not having spent that much time on the fourth floor—where he was currently standing—yet, he decided it couldn't hurt to wander around, seeing how people were working, and perhaps lighting a fire under some of his more sycophantic employees.

He had been wandering around for ten minutes or so, trying to make himself appear imposing, when his eyes landed on a familiar face. He smiled and approached the desk. "Doyle, buddy. I didn't know you worked here," he greeted, patting his old Yale Daily News editor on the back. Had he seriously just called Doyle 'Buddy'?

"Oh, uh Mr. Huntzberger, good to see you, how's it going?" Doyle said, the pitch of his voice high out of nervousness as he spoke to his boss.

Logan fought to keep from rolling his eyes; Doyle was still the complete suck-up he remembered. "Doyle, I've had the great displeasure of seeing you dressed in a fuzzy pink bathrobe, I think that puts us on a first name basis."

"Right, sorry," he apologized. "Congratulations, by the way, I heard about you and Rory," Doyle mentioned, starting to loosen up around his boss.

Logan smiled broadly at the mere thought of his Ace. "Thanks."

"No thank _you; _for making my life a living hell. Paris hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"You and Paris are still…?" Logan enquired. Rory's former roommate and their former editor were a weird couple, but then again, they seemed to make each other happy, in a warped sort of way, and it was hard to imagine someone else being able to put up with either of them for an extended period of time.

"Yep."

"Well, that would explain how you heard," Logan said, putting two and two together. Rory and Paris didn't talk much, since Paris was in med school and refused to allow any unnecessary interruptions during the school year, but he knew that they spoke once or twice during one of Paris's breaks, and they e-mailed each other occasionally.

"I believe her exact words after finding out were, 'That weasley ex-playboy Huntzberger is back in Gilmore's good graces for like, five minutes and he's already given her a 4 karat rock, hand-mined by some oppressed twelve year old in the Congo, and we've been together for four years and I can barely get you to buy me a Ring Pop.'"

Logan laughed. Maybe Doyle wasn't quite the suck up still, after all; although, they were Paris's words, but he'd at least had the gall to repeat them right to his face. "First of all, the ring was only two and half karats, second of all, if that diamond was mined by oppressed 12 year olds in the Congo, Cartier waaaaay over charged me. They pay those kids crap."

Doyle just looked at him with raised eyebrows. "OK, note to self—jokes about blood diamonds are inappropriate," Logan commented at Doyle's look. "I didn't imagine Paris wanting to get married before she'd become and surgeon _and_ a judge," he added.

"She doesn't," Doyle replied exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air and rolling his eyes, just thinking about the enigma that was his girlfriend.

"Mr. Huntzberger," another voice interrupted the conversation and Logan looked up to find the source. "Sorry to interrupt," a tall, lanky, thirty-something man approached. "But I was just on my way to your office, and I saw you here. If you don't have time, though, I could try again later."

Logan looked down at his watch and saw that there was still fifteen minutes until his next meeting. "No, now is fine…." He trailed off trying to remember the name of the man in front of him.

"Finebeck. Joseph Finebeck, Sir. I'm with personnel."

"Right, sorry. What can I do for you?"

"Well, we just received a letter of resignation from one of our assistant editors in the health and science department, Maria Rosetta …"

"Why is she resigning?" Logan interrupted curiously.

"Umm, I believe her husband's company just transferred him to Los Angeles."

"Is she good?"

"Excuse me sir?"

"At her job. Is she any good?"

"Umm, I'm not sure, Sir, I don't really…" The man looked completely flustered, at not knowing the answer to this question.

"No, no, that's fine. I suppose it's my job to know these things, but there are a lot of you and it'll take some time. I'll find out and see about offering her a position in one of our papers out there. Is there anything else?"

"Well, we were just wondering what you wanted to do about a replacement. Should we promote someone from within, or would you like us to send out a head hunter?"

Logan paused for a moment. "Did you say health and science?"

"Umm, yes sir."

Logan's face suddenly turned into a smile. "Don't do anything, I know just the person for the job."

* * *

Logan quickly made his way out of his afternoon meeting, heading back to make the call he'd been wanting to for well over an hour now. If she took him up on this job offer and moved to New York, Rory would be ecstatic. He knew how much she missed her best friend, and to be honest, Logan missed the spunky red-head too. They had bonded quickly. And then there was Finn. Logan didn't even want to contemplate how Finn would react to Sue moving to New York. She wasn't just one of his normal red-headed crushes—he was more infatuated with Sue than he had been with Rosemary during college—boyfriend be damned.

Logan closed the door to his office and made his way to his desk, picking up the phone and quickly dialing the familiar number.

"You know, I'm not supposed to take personal calls during work hours," the well-known voice answered the line.

"Who said it's personal?"

"You called my cell."

Logan paused for a moment, before realizing he didn't have a retort for that. It really wasn't personal, but her cell was the first number he thought of. Instead of responding to her statement, he shrugged, though she couldn't see it, and said, "You're boss will forgive you."

"You're not my boss anymore—well, I mean, you're still my boss's boss's boss, but you're not my _boss_ boss."

"That was way too many uses of the word 'boss' in one sentence. That can't possibly be grammatically correct. I may have to rethink offering you this promotion," he smirked.

A pregnant pause filled the air. "Promotion?" she asked for a moment.

"Assistant editor of the health and science section here at the Tribune. It would come with a raise—for the promotion, as well as a cost of living raise, and of course, relocation expenses…"

"Relocation expenses?"

"Well if you'd rather move to New York on your own dollar…"

"New York?"

Logan laughed at her obvious shock.

"You don't have to decide right now," he assured her. "You can take some time to consider it…"

"I don't need time," she interrupted quickly, her shock clearly evaporated.

"Are you sure, because I understand…"

"Logan…"

"Yeah?"

"I want the damn job."

Logan smirked. "Well than, I guess I better go prepare the Big Apple for your arrival."

* * *

Just a random fact--I had approximately 1300 hits on the first chapter of this story and 22 reviews. That means, that even if every person who read the first chapter read it twice, only 1 out of every 30 people who read it, reviewed. Isn't that sad? Also, 42 people put it on their alert list (thanks by the way :D, I love you guys) But that still means that at least 20 people liked it enough to want to know it was being updated, but not enough to review. Just something to keep in mind. I love you all, even if you don't review--I just love you a lot more if you do ;) 


	3. Practice Makes Perfect

**AN: Alright guys, here it is, the next installment. I want to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter, you guys were great, I appreciated everyone's feedback. I'm glad to hear that so many of you are looking forward to the Sue/Finn storyline. I really really love Sue/Finn myself, so I'm excited to write it. It's going to be a pretty big part of the story over all, their storyline will be pretty important in the Rory/Logan plot and they may even get a few chapters of their own. And if any of you are wondering where Colin is, he's up at Yale for law school. By my calculations though, I figure it's May-ish right now in the story so he should be around soon for the summer. I'm thinking up a nice girl for him, since Steph kind of doesn't exist in this fic. Umm, I think that's it for now, enjoy and don't forget to review please :)**

**Oh, and I started a live journal for my stories--just go to my profile and click on my home page. There's not much there yet, but I'll be posting news and stuff there for my stories, and if you have an questions or feedback, or just want to harrass me to update sooner, feel free to do so ;)**

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Finn asked, bouncing in his seat.

Logan rolled his eyes at the crazy Australian sitting across from him in the limo. "Just around the corner," he monotoned in response.

Finn was quiet for all of about five seconds before speaking again. "You said that five corners ago and we haven't been around any of them," he whined.

"Well I never said which corner," Logan admitted.

Rory laughed at the pair, shaking her head in amusement.

"Well then, which corner?"

Logan sighed. "The one about twelve blocks from here," he snapped. "We'll get there when we get there. Will you please just sit still and be quiet?"

Finn nodded his head and was actually quiet for a couple of minutes, but he slowly started becoming more and more agitated. His knee started shaking until it turned into a full on bounce and he couldn't contain himself any longer. "Are we there yet _now?_"

Logan groaned, letting his head fall back against the seat in frustration. Rory patted his knee comfortingly before answering for him. "No Finn, we're not there. Now be a good boy and stop asking and there might be an ice cold beer in it for you when we get there."

Finn's eyes lit up brightly and he nodded his head in enthusiastic agreement, but didn't say a word.

Logan looked at his fiancé in awe. "You're a godsend, you know that?"

Rory smiled. "I try."

They traveled for a few more blocks in comfortable silence before Finn finally broke the silence again. "Where are we?" he asked looking out the window.

"Brooklyn," Rory stated.

"Explains why the Dodgers left," he mumbled.

"Finn," Rory scolded.

"I don't know, Ace," Logan stated now taking a good look out the window at the surrounding neighborhood. "It is pretty ghetto."

"Did you just use the word ghetto?" she laughed.

"Well it is," Logan defended.

"Just because it's not the Upper East Side, doesn't mean it's ghetto. It's a decent neighborhood. Not everyone can afford to live where we do."

"So they should move in between the Bloods and the Crypts instead? She can't live here. She's going to get herself offed."

"I don't think there are that many Bloods and Crypts living in Bushwick, Finn. Besides, this is what Sue could afford. What would you have her do? Set up a cot in a janitor's closet at the office?"

"Of course not; she could stay with me—" he smirked. "There's plenty of room for her in my bed, you know."

"I'm sure there is," Logan laughed. "Finn will make her feel right at home."

Rory scowled. "Finn will absolutely _not_ make her feel right at home. She just got out of a two year long relationship. She doesn't need _you_," she pointed menacingly at Finn, "playing games with her."

"Yes ma'am," Finn mock saluted. Rory just rolled her eyes as the car came to a stop outside a six story, brick building with a U-Haul parked in front of it.

Rory looked out the window at the numbers on the building. "This is it. Please try to refrain from any derogatory comments about the neighborhood or apartment." She glared at Finn. "I'd add no shameless flirting, but we all know it would be pointless."

"Next thing I know, you'll be telling me no alcohol. What kind of devil woman are you? Which reminds me—you owe me a beer."

Rory rolled her eyes, but opened her purse and took a bill out of her wallet. She handed it to the Australian. "Here, go get a six pack—for all of us," she clarified at the look on his face. "There's a market right over there," she pointed to a market on the other side of the street a few doors down.

Finn rushed off excitedly down the street as Rory and Logan walked into the building and up to the third floor. When they reached Sue's new apartment, Rory knocked once on the half open door before pushing it the rest of the way and walking in. "Sue!" she squealed, running to the redhead who was taking plates out of a box and stacking them in the cupboards, and hugging her tightly.

"Well, it's nice to see you too," Sue smiled at the warm welcome. "Logan," she greeted, pulling out of Rory's embrace and going to give Logan a hug as well.

"Hey Sue. How was the trip?"

"Not bad. Traffic was kind of crappy in spots, but overall the ride went pretty smoothly."

"That's good," he paused. "Finn ran down the block to get his customary noon drink; he'll be up in a bit."

"Finn has a customary noon drink?" Sue asked with a laugh.

"This is Finn we're talking about, don't act so surprised."

"I'm only surprised because it implies that Finn is usually up at noon."

Logan shrugged his shoulders. "You make a good point."

"As soon as he gets here, the boys can start bringing up the rest of your stuff and I'll help you unpack it," Rory suggested.

"How come we get stuck with the heavy lifting," Logan whined.

"Because carrying boxes up three flights of stairs counts as exercise and Gilmores don't do exercise. If you didn't want to be the heavy lifter in the relationship you should have considered that before proposing."

"Contain yourself, Love," an accented voice called from the doorway. "I know you're excited to see me, but please keep the fervor to a minimum, as I am currently holding some very precious alcoholic beverages."

"I'll try," Sue laughed. "Do you think you could put the beer down just long enough to give me a hug though?"

"Hmm, alcohol or gorgeous red head—this is a conundrum if ever there was one," he replied, sitting the beer on the kitchen counter and drawing Sue into an embrace. He quickly glanced towards Rory to make sure she wasn't looking before he let his hands fall to Sue's ass, giving it a quick squeeze.

"Finn!" Sue scolded playfully, trying to hold back her laugh.

"Who me?" He asked; his best innocent look upon his face.

"Finn, stop groping Sue and go out with Logan to start bringing up boxes," Rory ordered, pointing to the door and tapping her foot impatiently.

"Geez woman, we're going, we're going," Finn groaned, walking towards the door. "Is she this bossy in bed?" Finn whispered to Logan as they headed out the door.

"So," Rory said, as she walked into the kitchen to start helping Sue unpack her pots and pans. "How are you doing?"

"I'm great. Living in New York City, I've got a great new job. Everything's good."

"Sue," Rory gently prodded.

The redhead sighed. "It's a little weird. Living alone again for one. The guys will probably appreciate the fact that the only furniture I've got for them to schlep is a futon and a mattress since everything in the old apartment belonged to Tim. But over all, it's not too bad."

"Really?" Rory asked, not truly believing her friend.

"Really," Sue replied sincerely. "I miss him, but our relationship was on the way out for a while now. I love him, but I'm just not in love with him anymore. That feeling was just…not there any more, ya know?

Rory thought back to her time with Jess. "Yeah, I know. I definitely know." Rory had been reluctant to admit that her relationship with him no longer held the passion it once had, but seeing Logan again had reminded her what being in love was supposed to feel like. It was easy to stay with someone just because it was safe and comfortable, but eventually you needed more. "So what exactly happened?" Rory asked, only having gotten the Reader's Digest version out of her friend over the phone.

"I told him about the job and he was excited for me. Then I told him it was in New York and he wasn't so excited. He wanted to talk it over but I told him there was nothing to talk about; I'd already accepted."

"Oy, I bet that went over well."

"He wasn't happy, no," Sue admitted. "But this wasn't an opportunity I was willing to turn down. Maybe if things with us had been different I could have made the sacrifice, and maybe if Logan hadn't offered me the job I could have stayed and we could have tried to fix things, but that's a lot of maybes. We discussed long distance briefly but we both agreed it wouldn't work for us, and he couldn't up and move to New York with me so…"

"So it's over."

"It was pretty civil. He was upset that I made such a huge decision without him, but in the end, we both agreed it was the right one."

"Well, I'm glad you're all right. Just remember, if you need a good wallow, I'm your girl."

"Thanks. I think I should get settled in here first, but once I'm done and don't have that to preoccupy myself with, I think a good wallow will be in order."

A loud thud filled the room and the girls looked up to see Finn sprawled prostrate on the floor next to a pile of boxes. Logan was laughing despite being slightly out of breath, as he set another pile of boxes down on the floor.

"Dear lord, woman," Finn groaned, lifting his head up off the floor. "Do you know that this building has no elevator?"

"Sorry Finn," Sue laughed. "But if you finish helping me bring my stuff up, I might be tempted to reward you with a kiss."

Before anyone knew what was happening, Finn was out of the apartment and halfway down the stairs.

* * *

"Ugh, I don't think I can eat another bite," Rory groaned, throwing a half eaten slice of pizza back in the box, and leaning back on the couch. 

"You?" Logan laughed. "The human garbage disposal? Full? I don't believe it."

"Hey mister, watch yourself," Rory pouted, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "Besides, I think the half a bottle of wine I downed probably took up a lot of space in my stomach," she giggled.

"Yeah," Logan chuckled, "we probably overdid it a bit on that," he agreed.

"But Sue gave it to us as a thank you for helping her move in. We wouldn't want to be rude and _not _drink it," she argued.

"Exactly," Logan nodded enthusiatically. "So what should we do now?" he asked, closing the lid of the pizza box and draining the last of the wine into his glass.

Rory shrugged. "We could watch a movie," she suiggested.

"We could start a pool on how long before Finn and Sue hook-up," Logan put-in, gulping down his drink.

Rory glared at him. "Could you give her at least a week to get over the guy she was living with for a year before you pair her up with a horny, drunk Australian?"

"I don't know, horny, drunk Australian sounds like the perfect qualifications for a re-bound, to me. Plus there _was_ that kiss."

"Yes, the very passionate peck on the cheek."

"Finn seemed to enjoy it."

Rory glared some more. "Sorry, sorry," Logan held his hands up in defense. "I'll drop it."

"Thank-you."

"So Mrs. Huntzberger," Logan smirked. "We still haven't decided how to spend the rest of our evening.

"Hey, I'm not Mrs. Huntzberger yet," she corrected him

"I'm practicing for after we're married," he defended with a smile.

"Ooh, practice is good. Practice makes perfect, after all; that's what they say."

"And we want everything to be perfect," Logan smirked.

"Uh huh," Rory nodded.

"Well then, we should probably practice some other stuff as well."

"Yes!" Rory agreed excitedly.

"So what should we practice first?"

"Hmm, I don't know," she smiled coyly. "Perhaps the wedding kiss?" She leaned in to press her lips to his.

"Hmm, that was a nice one," he replied, once she'd pulled back. "But a bit chaste. I think maybe it should be a little more passionate. Like this…" He pulled her head back to his bringing their lips together and nibbling playfully on her bottom lip until she opened her mouth to him. He pushed his tongue in to meet hers, and pulled her on top of him, lying back on the couch, and wrapping his arms around her waist.

Rory suddenly started giggling. "What?" he asked, with a groan as he pulled away from her lips, and propped himself up on his elbow.

"I was just thinking about how your mother and my grandmother would react if we actually kissed like that at the wedding."

"It probably wouldn't go over well," he chuckled,

"Well, that's all right. We have time to perfect the kiss. Perhaps we should move on to practicing some other stuff. Maybe we could practice for some of the activities that will take place later in the day," she suggested.

"Hmm, what exactly did you have in mind?" he teased.

"I'm not sure, exactly, but I think…it involves you without your shirt on," she grinned, pushing his t-shirt up and over his head.

"Shirtless on my wedding day?" he asked in mock horror. "What will people think?"

"They'll think I'm very lucky to have a husband with such nice abs," she replied, running her hands along his stomach.

"And if they saw you without your shirt on, they'd think I was lucky to have a wife with such a nice rack," he replied, peeling her tank top off of her body.

"Awww, you really know how to sweet talk a girl," she cooed, leaning down to kiss him.

"What can I say?" he mumbled into her kiss. "A guy would say just about anything to get laid," he grinned. He ran his hands up and down her bare back for a few moments before finally working on the clasp of her bra, slipping it off of her and tossing it to the side.

"Well, how can a girl resist that?"

"Mmm, you should just give up now, it's a lost cause." His hands moved around to her front to cup her breasts. His thumbs flicked over her hardened nipples. "I'm simply irresistible."

She moaned in response to the feel of his hands on her. "You know, if you're going to charm your way into my pants, you could at least take them off."

Logan laughed. "Impatient, aren't we?" he joked, sitting up, and turning them around so that she was the one on the bottom. He leaned down over her and started working on the buttons of her jeans. He unzipped them and slid them over her hips and off her legs, leaving her in just her black silk panties. He moved back up, trailing his hands along her legs, until he was fully over her again. His right hand anchored itself on her hip and his left hand moved to cup her through the underwear which was already soaked through

"Mmm, Logan," she moaned. He leaned down to kiss her as his hand started stroking her through the damp cloth.

"I love you, baby," he muttered through kisses, as his fingers slid underneath her panties to pinch her clit, causing her to throw her head back and groan. "And I love the way you sound when I'm pleasuring you." He dipped one finger inside her, and then another, curling them at just the right angle to hit her g-spot.

"Fuck, Logan," she grunted out. She drew the knee between him and the back of the couch up, trying to spread her legs wider for him, her hips thrusting upward, drawing his fingers in even deeper.

"That's right, baby," he encouraged, moving his lips off of hers and trailing them down her neck, over her collar bone to the supple swelling of her breasts. He positioned his mouth directly over the peak of one of them, flicking at her nipple with his tongue. "Come for me." He took her nipple more fully in his mouth and sucked at it.

She groaned again, thrusting her hips up into his hands once more. He continued to thrust his fingers inside of her, gently rubbing at her nub with his thumb, until he felt her start to quake with pleasure. She screamed his name as she tightened around his fingers. Once she came down from her high, he removed his digits and moved his mouth to hers once again, for a bruising kiss.

"Logan," she breathed out, once they broke apart.

"Yeah, Ace?"

"We should practice _that_ a lot."

Logan laughed. "That was just the precursor to the main event, Ace."

"Hmm, I don't know, I'm pretty satisfied. I could just fall asleep right now," she teased.

"Oh no you don't," he growled, reaching for the buttons of his own pants. "We're finishing this."

Rory rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "If you insist," she sighed dramatically, her hands moving to help him with his zipper. Before long, his pants and boxers were on the floor along with the rest of their clothing. He quickly pulled her panties off, and positioned himself over her. He lowered himself down, sliding into her with ease. She arched her back as he entered her, pulling him in deep.

"God, Ace," he mumbled. "You're always feel so fucking perfect; like you were made just for me." He pulled out and thrust into her again.

"Fuck, baby," she groaned. "I wouldn't want to be made for anyone else. You fill me up just right."

"Ace, do that thing, baby," he panted, as he continued to thrust in and out of her.

"What thing?"

"That thing with your hips, you know."

"This?" she thrust her hips, moving them in just the way she knew drove him wild.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, burying himself deeper inside of her.

They continued to thrust and move together until Logan felt his orgasm approaching. He moved his hands between her legs to massage her nub, trying to push her over the edge with him. He spilled out inside of her, thrusting a few more times through his climax until she spiraled over the edge with him. He collapsed on top of her, burying his head in the crock of her neck.

Logan finally pulled out of her and sat up. She moved too so that she was cuddled into his side. They sat there in silence for a few minutes.

"We should go upstairs, Ace," Logan finally said.

"No," she pouted. "Don't wanna move."

He chuckled. "But we have the nice big king size bed," he reminded her.

"We don't need a king size bed, I like to be close," she mumbled, cuddling even further into his side.

"I know, baby, but this couch isn't really gonna cut it. Come on," he said, standing up and scooping her into his arms.

"What are you doing," she asked.

"I'm carrying you," he answered.

"No, Logan, I'm sorry, I can walk," she insisted, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

"Nope, sorry," he said with a smirk, not letting her go. "Gotta practice for the wedding."


	4. Water Straightup With an Olive Twist

**So authors note at the end this time…**

* * *

Logan watched as Rory dragged her fork idly through the plate of pasta in front of her. "Is everything alright?" he asked her. Rory's head popped up to look at him.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, fine," she replied flatly

He raised his eyebrows at her, unconvinced. "Really? 'Cause it actually looks like there's more spaghetti on your plate now than there was when the waiter brought it to you, not to mention that you haven't had a single sip of wine, and I am an _expert_ wine picker-outer, if I do say so myself. If the whole newspaper business thing ever didn't work out, I could definitely have a carrier as a sommelier."

Rory forced a laugh and smiled politely, hesitantly fingering the stem of her wine glass. She started to lift the glass, but a few inches from the table, she thought twice about it and set it back down again. She was sure it was nothing to be concerned about, but it couldn't hurt to be safe. "I'm sure you'd be a great sommelier," she agreed half-heartedly. "You're just pretentious enough to insist nobody drink white wine with their steak."

"Really, Rory, what's up?" Logan asked more seriously.

"Nothing," she insisted.

"Are you feeling alright, because we can go home? I don't want you getting sick."

"I'm not getting sick; I feel fine, I swear. I just have some stuff on my mind. Besides, Colin just finished classes for the summer, and we haven't seen him in months. We're not going to skip out on him."

Tilting his head to the side, Logan looked pointedly at his fiancée. "What kind of stuff?"

"Huh?"

"Stuff; that you have on your mind," he clarified.

"It's nothing," she insisted, once again stabbing at her plate of food. "Just some work stuff," she lied.

"Well, tell me about it; I'm told being an expert listener is part of the fiancé job description. So, I'm listening."

"Seriously, Logan, I told you it was nothing; just drop it, please."

Logan sighed. He hated it when she wouldn't talk to him, but he knew how Rory was—she tended to bottle things up, and sometimes there wasn't anything he could really do about it except let her know he was there for her. "You'd tell me if something was really wrong?"

"Of course," she replied, a little too earnestly. She subconsciously brought her hand to her lap and smoothed out the shirt over her stomach. If there was something to tell, she'd tell him. She speared a meatball with her fork, forcing herself to partake in some nutrition. Iron was good for her.

Logan went back to his chicken francaise. There was silence at their table. Silence between them was usually a completely comfortable event, but Rory was obviously tense about something, and Logan could tell. Well, if he couldn't talk to her about it, maybe he could loosen her up another way. Logan furtively toed the shoe off of his right foot, inching it forward across the floor under the table.

"Logan," Rory hissed, looking up from her plate as she felt the soft cashmere of his sock brush against the inside of her ankle.

"Yes?" he asked innocently, throwing one of his signature smirks her way.

"We're in public," she whispered, glancing covertly around the dimly lit Italian restaurant. His foot continued to trail up her calf towards the hem of her knee length skirt

"What's your point?" he asked, letting his toes skim the inside of her thighs.

"My point is that we can't…" she sucked in a breath of air as his foot reached its final destination and he began wiggling his toes against the fabric of her panties.

"You were saying?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"We…we can't…" Instinctively she tried to clench her legs together, only succeeding in pressing his foot tighter against her center.

"Yes?"

She took several deep breaths, trying to regain her sanity as he mercilessly teased her. She finally succeeded in taking control over her body, and she pushed her chair back from the table, causing his foot to thud to the ground. "I'm going to the bathroom," she said, standing up from her seat.

"Is that my cue to wait a minute before following surreptitiously behind?" He grinned as she started walking away from the table.

"God, Logan, can't you keep your appendages to yourself for like, five goddamn minutes?" she snapped, spinning around to face him.

"That's not something I usually hear you complaining about, babe," he reminded her.

"Well, I'm complaining now," she growled dangerously. "It's like all you ever think about is sex: Sex, sex, sex. There are more important things in life than getting off, you know," she hissed quietly, trying to avoid making a scene.

"Whoa," Logan raised his eyebrows at her sudden outburst. He wasn't exactly sure what had just happened. Sure, he was aware that she got a little uncomfortable when he got too touchy-feely in public, but he just couldn't help himself sometimes; he loved the way the tips of her ears got bright red when she was embarrassed. But still, she'd never gotten angry at him for it before, "what's going on, Ace?"

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Nothing, just…" she shook her head, "I'm going to the bathroom," she repeated her earlier proclamation. Logan began to stand up, but she put her hands up to stop him. "That wasn't an invitation," she clarified.

He sighed and reached for her hand to gently take her palm in his. "Did I do something wrong?"

One look at his troubled face had Rory instantly became overcome with guilt for taking her troubled mood out on him. It wasn't his fault—well actually it was, but no more so than hers. "No, Logan," she assured him. She gave him a quick, but sweet, kiss for emphasis, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"I just really wish you would talk to me, Rory. Whatever is bothering you, you can tell me."

"I know," she nodded her head, "now's just not the time or place for this conversation, okay?"

"So we'll go home. Or if you don't want to go home, we can go somewhere else; anywhere else," he pleaded. At first he had been determined to let her confide in him in her own time, but something about her little outburst twisted at his gut. Whatever was troubling her was big; he just knew it.

"Colin…" she reminded him.

"Will probably be too drunk to even notice we're not there."

"We're going out with our friends tonight, and you're going to have fun," Rory insisted. "You're turning into a work dork and I just can't allow that," she teased. Besides, who knew how much longer they'd have the luxury of going out whenever they wanted. "Now can I go pee?"

Logan chuckled softly, turning the hand that held hers until their fingers intertwined. "We'll talk later?" he asked seriously.

Rory nodded.

"Promise?"

She forced a smile at him. "Sure."

"OK," he nodded reluctantly, dropping her hand. He sat back down as she disappeared towards the bathroom.

* * *

Rory entered the bathroom and walked over to the mirror. She set her purse down on the counter, rifled through it briefly, located her lip-gloss, and extracted it from the bottom of the bag. Popping off the cap, she looked up into the mirror and smoothed some over her lips, pressing them together to distribute it evenly.

She put the lip-gloss away, keeping her sights on the reflection before her. Her eyes traveled down her body to her flat stomach. Turning to the side, she examined her figure from a new angle. She brought her hand to her waist and arched her back, jutting her abdomen out as far as she could. What would she look like in a few months if her suspicions were true? In 6 months, she was supposed to walk down the aisle and marry the love of her life in the dress of her dreams. How would she even be able to fit into the dress if she was constantly growing from now until then? Sure she wanted this—eventually. Now they were just starting their lives together, they weren't ready for this.

Rory sighed, straightened up, and prepared to reenter the dinning room. There was no use worrying just yet; she wasn't even sure if it was true or not. Staring at herself in the mirror wasn't going to help. She had to find out if she was right, figure out how to tell Logan, and decide which order to do it in. For now, she'd just go back to the table and try to enjoy her dinner without having an emotional break down. She grabbed her purse, and left the bathroom.

* * *

"That one, over there," Sue pointed across the room. Finn followed her finger to see what she was referring to.

"The blue shirt?" he asked.

"No, the green one."

He shook his head in the negative. "Blue shirt's better; green shirt's a bit too burly."

Sue sighed. "Fine, your pick."

Finn glanced around the crowded bar until finally locating the next target. "There," he motioned to a spot near the jukebox. "In the cargos."

"Hmm, too blond…and too short, Oh but the friend is hot, I'd definitely do the friend," Sue smirked.

Finn shifted his eyesight a few inches to the right. "Yes, yes, yes, dear God, please, yes," he clasped his hands together, and cast his eyes to the ceiling after seeing who Sue was referring to. "You better not be messing with me, Hanley," he informed the redhead sitting next to him; this was too good to be true.

"You fulfill your end of the bargain, and I'll fulfill mine," she confirmed.

At that moment, the door to the bar swung open, although, Finn and Sue either didn't notice, or didn't care—Colin did, and he'd never been so happy in his life.

"Oh thank god you're here," Colin sighed in relief as the two newcomers joined the table. "These two," he motioned to Finn and Sue, "are crazy enough alone, but when you put them together…"

"Feeling a bit third wheel-y, Colin?" Rory asked.

"They're not even sleeping together."

"Yet…" Logan added. Rory elbowed him in the side.

"Ugh, I don't even want to think about what they'll be like as a couple. Having to deal with you two being all mushy is enough; they'd probably be insane and grope-y—even more so then they are now."

"Aww, I think you just need a nice girl of your own to be all mushy, grope-y, and insane about," Rory declared. She and Logan took a seat at the table. "There's this girl at work—"

"No set ups," Colin immediately interjected.

"Hmph," Rory pouted, crossing her arms over her chest, "you're no fun."

"He's a soul-sucking lawyer in training, hun, of course he's no fun," Logan confirmed. "I'm going to go get a drink," he added, patting her on the leg as he prepared to stand back up again. "You want anything?"

"Umm…" Rory hesitated, "actually, why don't I go get the drinks? It'll give me a chance to decide between vodka or gin for my martini."

"Are you sure?" he asked skeptically. "I could just get you both," he added in an upbeat manner, as though he'd just had his brightest idea all night.

"No thanks," Rory laughed, "I think one drink will be enough for now. I'll bring Sue with me; give us some time to gossip about you boys."

"Just remember," Logan told his fiancée, "I'm smarter, more attractive, and way better in bed than these two idiots."

Rory raised her eyes brows at this. "And you would know that last one, how?"

"It's been confirmed by several outside sources."

"Remind me not to ask these questions," Rory shook her head. "Sue," she tapped her friend on the shoulder.

"Oh, Rory!" Sue's head swiveled around to look at the other girl. "When did you get here?"

At this, Finn's head shot up as well. "Oh, didn't see you there, Love…Mate." He nodded at Rory and Logan. "Been here long?"

"We got here about, oh, half a dozen hotness ratings ago," Logan said.

"We're not doing hotness ratings," Sue corrected.

"Oh? What _are_ you doing then?"

"Sue has agreed to engage in some serious lip lockage with…" Finn scanned the room, finding the person they had agreed upon earlier. "…That exotic beauty over there," he pointed once he'd found her.

"Only if Finn agrees to slip some tongue to a man of our mutual choosing, we haven't decided who yet—Finn is being very picky."

"I should be more surprised than I am." Rory shook her head amusedly. "Come on Sue, let's go get a drink."

"Ooh, alcohol-y goodness; I'm in," Sue cheered, jumping up from her seat. "I think I'm in the mood for something…" she glanced back over her shoulder at the table, "…exotic," she grinned.

Rory shook her head, grabbed her friend by the hand, and pulled her away from the table.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Sue cried, "I think you just dislocated my shoulder!" She finally managed to pull her hand out of Rory's vice-tight-grip; she used her other hand to rub her, now sore, shoulder. Sue looked at her friend to see that the smile she had been wearing a few moments ago had faded away. "What's the matter?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

Rory sighed, glancing back at the table to see Logan, Colin, and Finn laughing at something. "I'm late," she whispered.

Lifting her hand up to glance at her watch, Sue tilted her head to the side. "It's only 10 o'clock. That's not that—"

"Jeez, how much have you had to drink?" Rory cut her off.

Sue shrugged. "A lot."

Rory tried again. "I ate an apple today—voluntarily."

"Your point?"

"It wasn't covered in caramel."

"Huh? Oh…" Green eyes widened considerably as Sue glanced down at Rory's stomach. "_Oh!_" she squealed excitedly. She closed her gaping mouth, the corners of her lips turning up into a smile. Before Rory knew what hit her, Sue's arms were wrapped around her, crushing her torso.

"Will you stop that?" Rory hissed. "You're making a scene, Logan will see."

"Hey now, no need to get all hormonal on me, you can't even be that far along yet. When were you due?"

"Tuesday," Rory sighed.

"Did you take the test?"

Rory shook her head. "Not yet."

"So you don't know for sure, then?"

"Not officially, but…"

"Mother's intuition?" Sue asked gently.

"Can I help you ladies?" The bartender interrupted. Rory jumped, startled, and turned around to face the bar.

"Oh, um…Sue?" she looked at her friend.

"Mai tai." the redhead ordered.

"And I'll take a Macallan, neat," she ordered for Logan, "and a glass of water."

"Sure thing," the tender nodded.

"Oh wait," she stopped him, just as he started to turn away from them to get their drinks ready.

"Yeah?"

"Can you put the water in a martini glass…with an olive?"

The bartender gave her a strange look, but shrugged and went about filling their order.

"You know, if you have to hide the fact that you don't drink from him, he's not worth it." Rory turned to face a tall, dark-haired, hazel-eyed man behind her. "I personally wouldn't care one way or another if you were a drinker."

"Would you care if I was engaged?" she asked with raised eyebrows, lifting her left hand up to show him.

"And possibly knocked-up," Sue added, shoving her way into the conversation. "You don't want her, she's damaged goods." She pushed Rory out of the way. "Now I on the other hand, am perfectly single _and_ free of intrauterine parasites." She batted her eyelashes flirtatiously.

"Sue," Rory scolded.

"Oh right," Sue glanced back at her friend, "girlfriend crisis, sorry hot stuff," she pouted at the man. He laughed in return. "I have to deal with this." She pointed at Rory. The girls picked their drinks up off the bar and placed some money down in place. Sue waved good-bye to the man as they walked away.

"So, are you going to tell him?" Sue asked a few moments later, once they'd left the bar and the flirter behind.

"I'll have to eventually, if I'm right—I just…I don't know. A part of me feels like I should wait until I know for sure. I don't want to freak him out over nothing. But then again, he already knows something's not right," Rory rambled.

Sue took a sip of her mai tai. "You want my opinion?"

Rory worried her bottom lip, looking sheepishly at Sue. "Yes, please."

"Tell him; he loves you, Rory. You guys are getting married. I know this is sooner than expected, but you've discussed this before. You're going to have a family together, t_ogether_, Rory. You should do it _all_ together—from the little pink strip through sending them off to college—minus the morning sickness, crazy food cravings, and hours of intensely painful labor, of course; but I'm sure you can think of some appropriate ways to torture him in return."

Rory smiled warily. "You think?"

"I know," Sue insisted. "It's you're choice, Rory. But whether you're right or wrong about this, you don't haveto go through it alone."

"Sue?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem, all I ask in return is that you name the kid after me." Sue flashed a blinding smile at her best friend.

"And if it's a boy?" Rory asked.

"Well, then he'll be unique," she insisted.

The two women ended their conversation as they neared the table, rejoining the men.

"So Finn," Sue said, once she'd sat herself down. "I've acquired your target."

"Oh?" he asked excitedly, straightening up.

Sue scanned the room searching for the person she was looking for. "There." She pointed towards the man she'd been flirting with at the bar.

"Right then," he said standing up. "Off we go."

"Wait." Sue grabbed his hand. "While you're at it, give him this." She grabbed a cocktail napkin and scribbled her phone number on it with the pen she had in her purse. Finn took the napkin off her hands. "Have fun," she winked at him, slapping his ass playfully as he walked away.

Approaching the man in question, Finn fingered the cocktail napkin in his hand. This would all be worth it when Sue fulfilled her end of the bargain. "Hey mate," he greeted his target.

The man turned around and gave Finn a quizzical look.

"The red head over there asked me to me to give you something," he pointed in Sue's direction. The man looked over the way Finn was pointing and smiled at Sue, giving her a slight up-nod of recognition. She waved at him coyly, a smile on her face.

"Oh, and what might the lovely lady have for me?" he grinned cheekily.

"This," Finn held up the napkin. The man went to take it but as he did, Finn grabbed his hand and pulled him in, kissing him square on the lips.

The man flailed his free hand and shoved the Australian away.

"What the hell is your problem, dude?" He choked out, wiping furiously at his mouth.

Finn grinned, shoving his hand into his pocket, still clutching something white. He shrugged his shoulders and started backing away. "What can I say, mate? I'm just the messenger."

* * *

Rory pulled the zipper of her skirt down and slid it down her legs, stepped out of it, and tossed it into the hamper next to her. Next, she stripped herself of her shirt, adding it to the basket full of dirty laundry. She turned to the dressers and opened the second drawer, staring at the contents for a few moments. A pair of sweat pants and a tank top stared back at her, as did a lacy, pink slip. Logan was going to want to talk before they went to sleep. Sweats were good for talking…lingerie was good for distracting. Which was it going to be?

"Personally, I like the pink, but I can't promise I'll be able to keep all my appendages to myself."

Rory turned around to face Logan, cringing as she remembered her outburst earlier that night. He was looking at her so intently and she knew that all he wanted was for her to confide in him. He wanted to know what was going on in her head and help her deal with whatever was bothering her. She had agreed to share her life with him and now all he was asking was that she share her thoughts with him. It should have been easy.

Lingerie was good for distracting—a blue polka dot bra and panties counted as lingerie, right? "Maybe I'm ready for some of those appendages now, mister," she grinned, walking up to him slowly. She placed her right hand on his t-shirt-clad chest and let it slowly slide down over his abdomen to the region below. She cupped him through his boxers and felt him harden as he grunted slightly.

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. After a few moments of battling tongues, he pulled away slightly. "We're still having that little chat when we get done here," he whispered.

_Damn it!_ She cursed to herself. But she'd only just begun; she had plenty of time to make him forget—or wear him out. She brought her lips back to his and slid her arms up and around his neck. They stumbled blindly out of the large, walk-in closet, still locked in an embrace. They let muscle memory guide them back to their bed and they collapsed onto it. Once they'd situated themselves on the center of the bed, Logan rolled on top, hovering over her on all fours, one knee wedged between her legs and his hands on either side of her head. He leaned down to kiss her.

Rory brought her hands up to paw at his back, pushing his shirt upwards. When the fabric got stuck at his arm pits, he sat up just long enough to lift the shirt over his head and discard it. He leaned back down, this time holding himself up with one arm. He let his other hand graze lazily over her breast. As she arched up into his touch, he took the opportunity to slide his hand underneath her and undo the clasps of her bra. He slid the straps down her arms one at a time and lifted the fabric off of her completely, leaving creamy, white skin where blue polka dots had just been. He gave one of her breast a quick squeeze before letting his hand migrate down, trailing languidly over her abdomen.

"God, I love you, baby," he whispered.

Rory froze. His words and actions in that moment had held far more implications than he could have possibly intended. Through all of the times they'd made love; in all the ways that he'd ever touched her, nothing had ever felt as intimate as that one moment had. It was as though he was talking directly to their baby—the one that may or may not have been growing inside her at that very moment.

"What's wrong?" He pulled back instantly when he felt her tense underneath him.

_Tell him…You're going to have a family together, together, Rory. You should do it all together. _The words echoed in her head. "I think I'm pregnant."

**

* * *

AN: So remember—Rory doesn't **_**know**_** if she's pregnant or not yet. This may yet be just a scare. Pregnant or not, I don't write stuff in my stories just for the sake of it—what I write, I write with a purpose and this chapter is no exception. This is just the beginning of a long line of events that will shape this story. There will be a lot of ups and downs along the way. Some of the events will in fact be quite angst-y and at times, I fear that some of you may feel that things that are happening are a bit too "cliché." Again, I never do anything without a purpose. In the end, I feel very confident in telling you that this story will be neither overly angst-y (in fact, I think it will end up being quite lighthearted and funny once we get passed the initial parts), or cliché in any way. That being said, don't hesitate to let me know what you're thinking at anytime. I'll try and take your comments into consideration and quell any concerns you may have. (Psst—that last bit means "review" ;P)**


	5. But You Ate an Apple

_Previously in Take a Breath_

_He slid the straps down her arms one at a time and lifted the fabric off of her completely, leaving creamy, white skin where blue polka dots had just been. He gave one of her breasts a quick squeeze before letting his hand migrate down, trailing languidly over her abdomen._

_"God, I love you, baby," he whispered._

_Rory froze. His words and actions in that moment had held far more implications than he could have possibly intended. Through all of the times they'd made love; in all the ways that he'd ever touched her, nothing had ever felt as intimate as that one moment had. It was as though he was talking directly to their baby—the one that may or may not have been growing inside her at that very moment._

_"What's wrong?" He pulled back instantly when he felt her tense underneath him._

_'Tell him…You're going to have a family together, together, Rory. You should do it all together.' The words echoed in her head. "I think I'm pregnant."_

* * *

"_I think I'm pregnant."_

Logan blinked several times, trying to drive away the shock of her words, at least enough to give some sort of response. He pushed himself up and sat back on his knees, still straddling one of her legs. "You what?"

Rory hoisted herself up on her forearms to look at her fiancé. "I think I'm pregnant," she repeated, with more conviction the second time around.

_Pregnant?!_ Logan's mind immediately went into overdrive. _Pregnant_! As in, 'knocked up,' 'with child,' 'in a delicate state,' or any one of the countless number of other euphemisms—not that 'pregnant' was a euphemism; that was pretty direct. It all came down to the same thing—in less than nine months, he would be a father…or _could_ be a father. He wasn't totally clear on that part. What did 'think' mean anyway? Did it mean she knew, but was still in denial? Did it mean her period was a couple of days late? Or did it mean she had a weird craving for pickles and ice cream and freaked out? He supposed that would be a logical place to start this conversation—not that he was thinking all too logically at the moment.

"You think or you are?"

She let out a deep breath. "I haven't taken the test yet or anything, but…"

"But…" he edged her on.

"I'm four days late, and I've been getting tired really easily the last week-or-so. My breasts are kind of tender and this morning…" she paused for a moment, "I ate an apple."

"You mean one that wasn't part of a pie?" he asked hesitantly, his face scrunched up in apprehension.

Rory sat up completely, wiggling her trapped leg out from under him and folding it beneath her Indian style. "Just plain," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders, in an almost guilty manner. She reached behind her to grab a pillow, placing it in her lap to serve the duel function of covering herself up and giving her something to cling to in her nervous state.

"Oh boy."

"Or girl," she offered up in an attempt to ease the tension.

"But how…how did this happen?"

"Well, when a man and a woman love each other _very_ much…"

"Aaaace," he whined.

"Well don't ask stupid questions if you don't want stupid answers," she snapped. This wasn't any easier for her than it was for him.

"Aren't you on the pill?" he rephrased.

"What, are you saying this is my fault?"

Logan groaned. It looked like this was going to be a _really_ fun conversation. "Don't put words in my mouth."

"Well, it's what you're thinking, right? I must not be taking my birth control, or I missed a few days or something—otherwise this wouldn't be happening, right? Well guess what, Logan…the pill isn't foolproof! Shit happens, so don't blame this on me," she ranted heatedly.

He was about to spit back an angry reply, but he stopped himself, taking a deep breath to dispel the tension he was feeling. "Not gonna work, Rory. I'm not going to let you pick a fight with me over this."

"I'm not picking a fight," she insisted.

"Rory," he prodded.

"Why would I want to pick a fight with you?" she asked, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"Because you're scared."

"Way to be observant," she snapped back.

"I get it, Rory," Logan replied calmly. He was amazed at how calm he was being about all of this. Maybe his instincts to take care of Rory were more powerful than the mind numbing fear. That was what he was feeling, after all—fear. As much as he wanted this with Rory, eventually, he definitely wasn't ready to be a father—right? Right, that nauseating churning feeling in his stomach was all fear (and certainly not the least bit of excitement). He was just staying calm for Rory's sake; she was scared enough for the both of them at the moment. "I'm scared too, but it'll be okay, because we're in this together. For better or for worse—I don't have to say it in front of a minister for it to be true."

"Oh, and me being pregnant is 'for worse'?

He sighed and sunk back further onto his knees in defeated frustration. If this is what dealing with a pregnant Rory was going to be like, he had a feeling the next nine months were going to be pretty trying. But then again, he still had the kid's teenage years to get through, so he might as well get used to the mood swings.

After a moment and a deep breath, he pushed himself back up on his knees, turning around and sitting next to her, cross-legged. "Ace," he said gently, wrapping an arm around her and attempting to pull her towards him. She resisted for just a moment before breaking down. Tears quickly filled her eyes as she collapsed onto his lap. Hair fell over her tear-streaked face and Logan gently pushed it back, whispering soothingly as the sobs wracked her body.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," he promised. "Everything is going to be okay."

"No," she croaked out, "It's not—look at me," she continued to sob into his lap, still clinging to her pillow. "I don't even know for sure, yet, and I'm already a hormonal, blubbering mess."

Logan continued to stroke her auburn locks. "Shh," he soothed, "we don't know anything for sure, yet. We'll go get a test in the morning. This could all just be stress. You've been driving yourself crazy with your new job plus wedding stuff. And if it's not stress, we'll deal. We wanted this after all; this is just a little sooner than expected."

"A _little_ sooner than expected?" she screeched, the tears ending suddenly and being replaced with rage. She sat up to face him. "We're not even getting married for seven more months. Oh God, the wedding is going to be ruined."

"The wedding will be fine, he promised."

"Fine? I'll be eight months pregnant! I'll be too fat to fit into my dress; my ankles will be too swollen to dance on; I'll have to stuff my big, poofy train into a teeny-tiny bathroom stall every five minutes, because the brat will be sitting directly on my bladder. I'll probably even go into labor two hours into our honeymoon—you call that fine?"

"Rory." He tried to interrupt her rant.

"Oh god, I called our 'maybe-baby' a brat. My egg is fertilized for, like, two seconds and I already resent it—I'm going to be a horrible mother."

"Rory, stop," he said, more forcefully this time, placing a hand on her shoulder to startle her out of her outburst.

She did stop, staring straight at him, silently, not knowing what to say after her freak out. "You really think there's a chance I might not be pregnant?" she finally managed to ask weakly.

If she wasn't pregnant, she'd definitely gone insane, though Logan wasn't about to tell _her_ that. "I don't know," he said instead. "But I do know that whenever the time does come, you're going to be an amazing mother. Hell, you're the one who taught _me_ how to grow up and look how wonderful I turned out." He flashed her a big, cheesy grin.

Rory smiled slightly, sniffling, and wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. "You have your moments," she half agreed.

Logan let his hand fall off her shoulder, trailing down her side to the curve of her waist and moving it forward to cover her belly, pushing aside the pillow that had fallen loosely into her lap. "Hear that, kid? You're old man's got his moments. Maybe I won't always be a complete and total embarrassment to you when you're growing up." _Or a complete and total uncaring, control-freak, asshole, _he mentally added. Although, deep down, he knew his Ace would keep him in check if he ever started turning into his father.

"You do realize that if I'm wrong, you're just a crazy man talking to my stomach," Rory laughed at him.

"Oh, like you've never chatted with any of _my_ body parts?" he lifted his gaze to meet hers and gave her a naughty smirk. Rory immediately reddened.

"Oh, that is so not fair; it was _one_ time," she insisted. "I told you I sucked at dirty talk, but _you_ wanted me to try. I can't believe you would use that against me," she huffed.

"I wouldn't exactly say you sucked—at least not by your definition," he grinned cheekily. "You definitely got the attention of said body part. Then again, that particular body part is probably at attention about ninety-eight percent of the time it sees you naked."

"ninety-eight percent?" she asked indignantly. "I'm insulted."

"It's the two percent right after sex, babe. It's nothing personal, but even _I_ need a bit of recuperation time."

"So does that mean you were…_you know_…during the entire conversation we just had?" she asked incredulously.

"Hard?" he filled in, raising his eyebrows at her suggestively. "Horny, completely hot for your body?" he suggested helpfully. "Come on, Ace, if you suck at dirty talk, the only way to get better is to practice," he goaded.

"Logan," she half scolded, "I'm serious. Were you really…turned on?"

"That was pretty weak, Ace, but I'll let it slide this time." She glared at him. "Alright, alright," he caved. "I lost it for a few seconds right after 'I think I'm pregnant' but got it back right around 'when a man and a women love each other very much.'"

Tilting her head to the side, she gave him her best innocent look, biting her lip seductively while trying to keep her face from cracking. "And you've been wanting to fuck me all this time?" she asked.

Yep, she could definitely do dirty talk if she wanted to, although Logan knew that that one single, naughty word was a thousand times hotter out of her mouth due to infrequency of use. "Well, if I didn't before, I sure as hell do now," he practically growled.

"Well then, we should probably do something about that," she replied coyly.

"Mmmhmm," he agreed, "any suggestions?"

"Weeeeell," she drawled out, placing her hand on his chest and pushing him onto his back. Rory climbed on top of him and brought her head down so her lips were barely brushing his. "We could start with this," she whispered, closing the gap and kissing him sensually.

"Mmm," he hummed as their lips separated. He placed his hands on her hips, running them down over her butt and back up, fingering the elastic of her panties. "And we could definitely get rid of these," he suggested, pushing them over the round of her bottom.

"Yeah, those weren't really necessary." She shook her head in agreement. She lifted her knees one by one to allow him to push them down. Then she toed them the rest of the way off. She sent sloppy, open-mouth kisses down his chest—over his abdomen, until they reached the waistband of his boxers. "These could probably go, too," Rory added, nudging them over Logan's hips and pulling them down off his legs. She crawled back over him, leaning in for another kiss, and grinding her hips into his at the same time, her wet core pressing onto his hardness.

After a few moments, she reached down to grab him, preparing to guide him into her. "Rory," he groaned. She leaned in for another kiss, as she lined up and slid onto him.

Logan never ceased to be amazed by how amazing she felt surrounding him. He'd been with plenty of other girls and none of them had ever felt as wonderful as his Ace. But something was different this time. She still felt as wonderful as ever, better, in fact. They weren't just having sex, or even making love…they were making life. It scared the crap out of him…knowing that being with the woman he loved so intimately could result in a life being created. Maybe not this time, maybe it had already happened, or maybe it would happen the next time, or the one after that. It didn't matter; all that mattered was that, suddenly, getting a girl pregnant wasn't just an undesirable side-effect of sex that he avoided at all costs.

He looked up at his fiancé, eyes squinted shut, rocking back and forth above him. "I love you," he whispered.

"Mmm, I love you too," she moaned, absent-mindedly, as she continued her ministrations.

"Rory, Rory, look at me," he requested. She opened her eyes and met his. "I love you," he repeated more firmly.

She paused, and looked down at him curiously. "I know," she assured him.

"I love our baby."

She nodded her head silently in acknowledgement, not sure how else to respond.

"Even if it doesn't exist, yet," he continued. "Even if it does and it screws with all our plans," he smiled almost fondly.

"Okay," she replied lamely.

"Do you?"

"Huh?"

"Love our baby," he clarified, placing a hand over her belly.

"Of course," she insisted.

"Then whatever happens, we'll be happy, right?"

Rory nodded her head in agreement. "Whatever happens."

"Good," Logan smiled brightly. "Now, where were we?"

Rory looked down between them to the joining of their bodies. "I think we were pretty much here," she laughed.

"Right, we should finish with that then."

"Oh, you think so?" she asked sarcastically.

With their bodies still interlocked, Logan flipped them over so he was on top. "Definitely," he replied huskily as he lifted his hips and let them fall back into her. She quickly synchronized her own motions with his until they were moving in tandem, the sounds of the grunting of each others names the only further words that were exchanged between them until they both spiraled over the edge.

Logan rolled off of her, panting heavily. Once he'd caught his breath, he rolled over on his side to look her. "You know, I think I'll be okay with running out in the middle of the night to pick up food for your crazy cravings, and waking up early to hold your hair back when you puke if the raging hormones also result in lots more sex like that," he informed Rory.

"I bet you will," she laughed, leaning forward to peck him on the lips. She settled back onto the bed, turning onto her side so they were spooning. Logan threw his arm over her waist, spreading his hand protectively over her belly and just like that they fell asleep.

* * *

Rory woke up to a grey haze—filtering in through the curtains—indicating that it was just after sunrise. She closed her eyes for a moment and sunk back into Logan's embrace. The last thing she wanted was to get out of bed, but she knew that if she didn't get up to pee, she'd wake up every fifteen minutes until she did.

After a couple of minutes, Rory lifted up Logan's arm, and slid out of bed. She threw on his discarded t-shirt from the night before, because it was the only article of clothing within reach, and padded sleepily toward the bathroom.

Sitting down on the toilet seat, she sighed with relief as the pressure in her bladder dissipated. Hopefully she'd be able to get back to sleep. She hated when she woke up to go to the bathroom and then couldn't get back to sleep. She'd probably be doing that a lot over the next nine months.

She was happy that Logan had taken the news so well, but somehow it didn't make her feel any more prepared for what was to come. She told Logan the previous night that she loved their baby and would be happy with whatever happened but deep down she was definitely gunning for a negative sign on that little plastic strip. She just wasn't ready for a baby.

Finally finding a tiny bit of energy, she rolled some toilet paper onto her hand and finished up. Just as she was about to flush she looked down and noticed a smudge of red-brown toilet paper floating in the bowl. She woke up instantly, her entire body flooding with relief. Her period, she wasn't pregnant. She had been so certain—all the signs were practically irrefutable—and yet it seemed she was wrong. She had never been so happy to be wrong before.

She finished up in the bathroom, placing a tampon and grabbing a pair of underwear from her closet on the way back to the bedroom. Jumping on the bed, she shook Logan awake.

"Logan…" she called, pressing on his shoulder.

"Hmm," he groaned, flipping over and burying his head into the pillow.

"Loooooogan," she tried again, bouncing on the bed.

"What?" he mumbled, half asleep.

"I got my period," she said cheerfully.

"Great, no sex for a week—woohoo," he said, less than half-heartedly, flopping onto his back, his eyes still closed.

"No, Logan, wake up!" She poked him in the chest until he opened his eyes.

"What?" he asked slightly annoyed at being woken up from his slumber.

"I got my period," she repeated.

"Yeah, I heard you the first…Oh!" he said, his sleepy brain finally catching up with the situation. He sat straight up. "So, you're not…" Rory shook her head happily in response. The relief that should have flooded Logan's body at the news that he would not be a father for some time yet didn't come. "But you ate and apple," was all he could manage to say.

"This is good news," Rory reminded him.

"Yeah, of course," he said, without much enthusiasm. She was right of course, it was good news. It meant they still had time to concentrate on their changing careers and their upcoming wedding. It meant they wouldn't have to deal with any more cold, polite, unstated disapproval from the Huntzberger and Gilmore families over doing things in the wrong order—or any order as far as the Huntzberger side was concerned. It meant that they could still do things in their own time, that they could be more prepared. It wasn't exactly that Logan was upset over the news his fiancée had just imparted, he just wasn't…relieved. He couldn't help but think it wouldn't have been so bad to have a little, Ace Junior to look forward to.

* * *

**AN: I think I'm just going to do that thing where I conveniently ingnore my prolonged absence and skip straight to the part where I beg for reviews--if anyones still even around to read this after my disappearing act. ;)**


	6. How to Be a Good Guest

**AN: I know I owe you guys a chapter of WHiV, but I just wasn't feeling it, and I figured you'd prefer this story to none. This chapter is heavy on the Sue/Finn action..I think from hence forth I shall refer to their ship as "Sinn" ;) (although if someone can come up with something better I'm open to suggestions.) Anyhow, on with the story.**

* * *

Sue trudged exhaustedly up the stairs. Her apartment building was seven blocks from the subway stop and her knock-off Jimmy Choos were rubbing a nice-sized blister onto her little toe. She grasped her purse tightly in one hand and her keychain of mace in her other. It wasn't like she lived in a completely horrible area, but she was still getting used to being in Brooklyn, especially late at night. It was after two already, seeing as her friends from work had opted for the late night showing of Sex and the City and of course, had insisted on some after-movie cosmos—not that she had put up much of a fight on that front. Besides, the waiter at the bar they went to had very kindly offered the trio of scantily clad girls a free round. Who could say 'no' to that?

She finally reached the landing for the third floor. As she opened the door of the stairwell, her nerves suddenly seemed to tingle a bit more then they had a moment ago. She paused and glanced down the hall towards her apartment. Hearing a series of bangs come from that general direction, she tensed up in fear.

Taking a deep breath, Sue readied her pepper spray, index finger poised at the trigger, and slowly began creeping her way down the hall. A few steps in, she was able to get a clear view of the entrance to her studio and it instantly became obvious that the door was not closed all the way. There was another bang, this one higher pitched than the ones she'd heard a few moments before.

Once again, she stopped all movement. A combination of curiosity and anger urged her forward, but mind-numbing fear and commonsense kept her back. Without even thinking, she pulled her cell phone out from her bag, and pressed the speed dial. One, two, three rings…just as she was about to give up, there was a click on the other end of the line.

"'Lo?" A sleepy voice answered.

"Finn," she hissed quietly into the phone.

"Kitten?" he asked groggily, using the endearment he had bestowed upon Sue.

"I think there's someone in my apartment," she whispered.

"What?" Finn bolted upright, any semblance of sleepiness he'd retained instantly gone. "Where are you?"

"In the hallway," she quietly informed him.

"Okay," he tried to remain calm, "go back to the stairs," he urged her. Instead, she started towards the open door at the end of the hall again, somehow emboldened by the sound of Finn's voice on the other end of the line.

There was a murmur of a male voice from within the apartment. "I think I hear someone," she whispered, getting closer and closer.

"Sue," he warned, "you need to get someplace safe."

She took another step instead, and as she placed her foot down, something cold and wet lapped past the pleather straps of her shoes and over her toes. She looked straight down and her eyes met the edge of a puddle broken up by her purple painted toenails.

"There's water," she scrunched up her nose in confusion.

"Water?" Finn questioned.

"On the floor." She let her gaze follow the path of water from her foot straight through the ajar door of her apartment. "What the…?" Just as her gaze lifted off the floor and scanned over the threshold, the door creaked all the way open, and a man stepped into the hall. She met his eyes. "Mr. Riess?" she asked, looking straight at her Super.

"Sue," the man acknowledged, "did you get my message?"

"Message?" she asked.

"On your cell," he clarified. Sue looked down at the device still clutched in her hand and it suddenly occurred to her that she had never turned the ringer back on after the movie.

"Oh, uh, no," she admitted, "sorry."

"Right, well, I know I'm supposed to give you forty-eight hours notice before entering the premises, but it was an emergency and all. I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Emergency?"

"Umm, well, there's kind of been a bit of a…well…a pipe burst."

Sue looked down at her wet feet again. "And I suppose it's too much to hope that there wasn't that much water damage?" she looked up hopefully at Reiss just as another man holding a pipe wrench joined them in the hall.

"I'm gonna need tah owda' anotha' part," the new man said in a deep, Brooklyn accent.

"How long?" the superintendent sighed, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"Coupla' days," the other man, who Sue assumed was the plumber, responded.

"I'm sorry, Sue," Mr. Reiss apologized. "You can come in and get what you need, but be forewarned. " Images of water-logged futons and floating televisions flitted through her mind and she cringed. At least she didn't have that much stuff to begin with, so there wasn't that much that could be ruined. "Do you have some place to stay tonight?"

Did she? Rory and Logan had gone to Connecticut for the weekend, meeting with their families to discuss wedding preparations. Even if she could get a hold of them at this hour and figure out a way to get a key to their place so she could crash there, they had enough aggravation of their own to deal with after an evening with the Gilmores and the prospect of and evening spent in company of the Huntzbergers the following night. The last thing they needed was to be pulled into her aggravation as well. Sue tightened her grip on the phone in her hand and brought it back to her ear.

"Sue? Sue? What the hell, if you don't answer me this fucking instant, I'm calling the bloody coppers," the Australian screamed frantically into his end of the phone.

"Finn," she interrupted his babbling, "I'm kind of going to need a favor."

* * *

Rory pushed a pea around on her plate and shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Having dinner with her future in-laws was definitely high on her list of top-ten-least-favorite-activities. Every part of it was painful from the 'civil' conversation during cocktails, to Mitchum's berating of the cook for daring to serve him peas, to Shira's incessant babble about the appropriate society wedding. At some point Rory would have to find the courage to inform her future mother-in-law that she would not be helping in the planning of the wedding. It would be one thing if Shira actually cared about what Logan and Rory wanted, but Shira was only interested in wedding planning because she wanted to insure that Rory in no way embarrassed the Huntzberger name—more so than she already had by agreeing to take it.

"We've finished our guest-list; we will give you a copy of it before you leave."

Rory's head shot up at Shira's words. "Guest list?"

"Yes, of the family friends and colleagues we want to invite to the wedding," Mitchum clarified.

"It's only one hundred people. I hope we haven't left anyone out," Shira mused.

One hundred people—were they insane? One hundred people that Rory and Logan had probably never even spoken to a day in their lives. Rory felt her anger bubbling to the surface, getting ready to explode. Logan squeezed her hand reassuringly and opened his mouth before she had a chance to.

"The Dragonfly can only accommodate a hundred and fifty and we have our own guests," Logan informed his parents. "I'm sorry, but we just can't make room for that many people."

"The Dragonfly?" Shira inquired distastefully. "I've never heard of it."

"It's Rory's mother's Inn," Logan reminded his mother with an eye roll.

"The one in that Stony Hollow place?" Mitchum inquired.

Rory gritted her teeth painfully—partly from the fact that she was stuck in the once awe inspiring, but now depressing Huntzberger mansion with her soon to be pain-in-the-ass in-laws, and partly from the physical discomfort in her lower abdomen. She wasn't sure why she should be having cramps; it wasn't time for her period yet, thankfully. The last one had been bad enough; though the bleeding had been lighter than usual it had gone on for almost a week and a half compared to her usual six days, and the cramping had been almost unbearable. On the bright side, she had felt so ill that they had had to cancel their weekend dinner meetings with the Gilmores and Huntzbergers. On the down side, they had had to reschedule those dinner plans for two weeks later. So here she was, stuck biting her tongue at the skillfully underhanded tactics of the elder Huntzbergers. "Yes, it's in _Stars_ Hollow," she replied, subtly emphasizing the proper name of her town.

"How quaint," Shira responded icily, fake smile plastered on her face.

Another sharp pain shot through her stomach and she fought to keep herself from doubling over right there at the dinner table. Maybe it was food poisoning—she wouldn't put it past the Huntzbergers to poison her appetizer with some expensive, untraceable toxin. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go powder my nose." _And raid the cabinets for some Petpo-Bismol._ _Even rich people got stomach aches, right_? She pushed back her chair and stood up.

"Yes, of course," Shira acknowledged breezily. "Marie," she addressed the maid, "be a dear and show Miss Gilmore to the ladies room." Rory silently followed the maid out of the dinning room and towards the bathroom. She didn't bother trying to remind Shira that she had been in their house on a few occasions now and knew precisely where all eight of the bathrooms were—including Logan's private bathroom where she and their son had indulged in some rather torrid hanky-panky during a particularly boring society party.

Once they had reached the bathroom, Rory nodded at the maid in thanks and went in, shutting the door behind her. She collapsed against the sink and clutched her stomach as another pain gripped her. After a moment, she took a deep breath, turned around, and opened the cabinet next to the mirror. _Hand soap, nail polish remover, a hair brush_…it quickly became clear that there was absolutely nothing medicinal in the medicine cabinet. She groaned in frustration.

Suddenly, Rory's mind flitted back to a certain baby-shower she had attended for a certain half-sister. Her mother had been coerced into attending as well, and after quickly reaching her limit, Lorelai began taking her aggravation out on the properly organized toiletries and neatly folded hand towels. Just as Rory was about to angrily unravel an entire roll of toilet paper, there was a knock on the door.

"Ace," the voice of her fiancé floated through the wall.

Unlocking the door, she pulled it open, grabbed Logan's arm, and pulled him into the lavatory with her, quickly shutting the door once again. "It is wrong to deface other people's property," she recited like and mantra.

Logan quirked and eyebrow at her curiously and responded, "Huh?"

"Never mind," she sighed, as the need for vandalism passed, "aren't there any drugs in this house?"

"Aww, that's the little yacht-stealing-felon I fell in love with," Logan cooed. "Now, I don't do that stuff anymore, but I always had a secret stash in my room—might still be there if the staff hasn't found it yet." Rory glared reproachfully at him. "Kidding," he assured her, "you got a headache?" he asked, gently stroking his thumb against her temple. "This family is a migraine waiting to happen."

Rory shook her head in the negative and hugged her abdomen. "I don't think the crab cakes agreed with me," she whined pathetically.

Despite feeling bad for his fiancée, a small smirk crept onto his face. "Maybe it's morning sickness," he teased, "we _did_ celebrate not being pregnant _several_ times," he joked.

"Logan," she whined, pouting her lips pathetically.

"Oh, I see we've entered the 'no humor' stage of being sick," he grimaced. "You know, if you feel we need to call it a night, I will back you one-hundred percent."

Rory rolled her eyes. "We already cancelled once because I wasn't feeling good," she reminded him. "Or rather, we rescheduled. Remind me again why we couldn't have just cancelled outright?"

"Because they are our family and if we don't cooperate with them at least a little, they will make our lives a living Hell. Besides, last night we went to the Gilmore's and it's best to just get it all over with at once."

"Yes, but at least the Gilmores like you—love you in fact. They want to erect you a shrine right next to the astronomy building they had Yale build in my honor. The only thing your parents want erected for me is a headstone right next to a dead guy named Sal."

Logan sighed. He hated that his parents didn't approve of Rory, but they were going to have to learn to accept her because she was it for him, and besides, even if there was no Rory, he could never fall in love with the kind of girls his parents wanted to see him with. He needed a girl with a brain, someone he could have passionate, heated arguments with, someone with dreams and a life of her own that she would share with him…not some brain dead twit who lived to serve his every whim. It didn't matter; Logan wasn't looking for their approval. Mostly he just wanted to get through the necessary familial obligations and get him and Rory out of there.

Logan glanced at his watch. "Think you can survive one more hour?" he asked her.

"Can we go home afterwards?" she replied. "As much as I love staying at the Inn and seeing Mom and Luke, I really just want to sleep in my own bed tonight."

Logan nodded his head in approval. "Of course, we'll even stop at CVS on the way and get you some Mylanta," he offered.

"Thanks," she smiled wearily.

The couple took a moment to compose themselves before heading back to endure one more hour of Hell.

* * *

Sue snuggled into the plush, leather seats of the couch, curling her feet underneath her and snatching up the remote from its spot on the coffee table next to the large glass of '93 merlot and the sleeve of Oreos. As she flipped on the sixty-seven inch, flat-screen TV, she sighed in contentment. This was the life. She'd only been at Finn's for one day, but already she never wanted to leave. Maybe he'd be willing to take on a roommate…one who could only afford to pay one-tenth the rent. Probably not, but at least she could enjoy it while it lasted. She was going to start by enjoying the terrifying experience of _Cloverfield_ in Blue-ray hi-def.

Just as the Paramount symbol faded off the screen, the door handle jiggled and then turned completely, opening as Finn entered the apartment.

"Oreo?" she questioned, holding out one of his own cookies to him.

He took the cookie and turned to the screen. "What are you watching?" he asked, turning his attention back to the gorgeous red-head on his sofa—more specifically to the white tank-top that tightly hugged her curves. Dammit—she wasn't wearing a bra. There was a gorgeous, bra-less, red-head in his apartment and there was nothing he could do about it. Why the hell did he have to actually respect Sue? That had never happened with any of the other gorgeous red-heads.

"_Cloverfield, _it just started…you want to join?"

Hmm, watch a thriller with a gorgeous, bra-less, red-head? "That depends." He raised his eyebrows. "Just how easily do you scare, Kitten?" Like he was going to say 'no' to the prospect of her jumping into his arms at all the scary moments? Not likely.

"Oh, I'm a _big_ baby," she assured him, "it's definitely best if I have a big, strong man to cling to at all the suspenseful moments."

"Well, I suppose I could be your knight-in-shining-armor," Finn played along. "Just pause it for a second while I go change."

"Good, that'll give me a chance to go pee," Sue responded with a smile.

"Didn't you just sit down?" he inquired.

"What's your point?" she asked, jumping up off the couch and letting the throw blanket that had covered her legs slip to the floor.

If Finn had a point, he sure as hell didn't remember it anymore as he stared longingly at her long, muscular legs which extended tantalizingly from the hem of the green boy shorts with the white shamrocks on the back all the way to the floor. _Jesus_, she was trying to kill him.

"Err, nothing," he murmured stupidly as she strode away from him and disappeared into the bathroom.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Sue was lying with her head in his lap as the movie wound to and end. True to her word, she had clung to him at all the proper moments in the movie and despite every innate, Finn-like urge, he had remained a complete gentleman and had not let his hands go to any inappropriate places. But, even though, for what may be the first time in the history of Finn, he had gone against all of his bodily urges, it didn't change the fact that he was having them—and there was no way she wasn't noticing with her head lying where it was.

The credits rolled and Sue sat up, acting as though Finn's predicament was non-existent. "That was awesome. It was like being in a movie theater only with super comfortable seats and no one trying to have a conversation on their cell phone in the middle of it all."

Finn laughed. "I'm glad you liked it, Kitten."

"I did." She stood up and began gathering the wine glasses and packages of food.

"You don't need to do that," he told her.

"Don't be silly," she replied as she carried the things into the adjoining kitchen, "you're letting me stay here and everything, the least I can do is not make more work for your maid." She grinned back at him knowingly. There was no way Finn's apartment stayed as pristine as it did without some serious hired help.

Finn followed her into the kitchen to help—and partly just to stare at her ass. He made his way to the dishwasher and opened it to place the wine glasses inside.

"Where do the Doritos go?" she asked him as she opened a set of cupboard doors.

"Top shelf," Finn instructed.

Sue lifted herself up on her tippy toes, bouncing slightly for leverage and leaning against the counter for support as she tried to place the chips back in their rightful spot.

Finn looked over at the woman and chuckled at the sight before him. "Need some help, Love?"

"No…I've…got…it," she grunted out as she strained to reach the shelf before finally sinking back onto her heels. "I hate being short."

"You're five-six," he reminded her.

"That's still too short to reach the top shelf," she retaliated as she moved to climb on the counter in order to reach her goal.

"Woah, woah, woah," Finn said as he noticed her move, "what do you think you're doing? The last thing I need is you falling and cracking your skull open. The maid would _not_ be happy if she had to clean up all that blood," he added, referring to her earlier poke at him.

Finn moved behind her, placing a hand on her hip to steady her as she brought the leg she had hoisted onto the counter back down to the floor. His other hand reached to her outstretched one and grabbed the bag of Doritos, placing them securely on the shelf.

Now that the cheesy snack-food was away, he knew he should step away, but he couldn't seem to. The hand that was on her hip brushed against silky smooth skin that was exposed between the waist of her shorts and the hem of her tank-top, her entire back was pressed intimately against his chest, and every ounce of restraint he had been gathering all night was suddenly nowhere to be found.

She hadn't moved either. The hand that had been attempting to reach the shelf remained outstretched in the air above her as tingles from his touch flowed through it. The air around them literally felt thicker as she tried to breathe in. His outstretched arm slowly moved down, brushing along hers as it did so. Sue finally moved, turning her head ever so slightly to get a glimpse of the man behind her. He was good looking, there was no doubt about that. She had always thought so. And he was clearly attracted to her, he'd never been subtle about the fact; even during the movie when he was trying to be a gentleman, his body gave him away. Finn was no gentleman, although she felt flattered that he would attempt to act like one for her sake.

Still, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he was a little less gentlemanly and a little more…Finn. They were two consenting adults who shared a mutual attraction after all. Besides, it had been over a month since she and Tim had broken up and a month without sex was a lot when you were used to having it on a regular basis. It's not like she was looking for a relationship, yet, but then again, Finn was in no danger of giving her that. He wasn't really the relationship type.

So really, it was perfect. She knew him, she trusted him, she was attracted to him, and when it was all over she knew they'd still be friends—no harm done, no broken hearts.

She shifted the rest of the way around so she was facing him completely. Their faces were millimeters apart. "Thanks," she whispered, tilting her head up until lips met lips.

* * *

Logan quickly glanced at the passenger seat of his Porsche where Rory laid with the seat all the way back and her legs pulled up into the fetal position. They were currently cruising down I-95 headed back to Manhattan. They had made in through the rest of the dinner with his parents relatively unharmed, but Rory's stomach bug didn't seem to be getting any better. Logan couldn't help but think she was starting to look a little pale, although the fluorescent glow of the street lights wasn't really the best to judge by.

"Ace," he said softly, gently shaking her shoulder, "how yah holding up?"

"I feel yucky," she whined.

"Maybe we should take you to the hospital," he mused, "you don't look so good." He pushed some hair off her forehead and noticed that it felt cold and clammy.

"No," she grunted as another pain shot through her, "I can just go to the doctor tomorrow if I'm not feeling better."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," he reminded her.

"I just want to go home, Logan," she pleaded.

He sighed in defeat. It was just a stomach flu anyhow; they'd probably just tell her to rest and drink plenty of fluids—nothing he wasn't already going to ensure she did. "Alright, Baby, we'll be there soon."

* * *

Finn was trying to be a gentleman for Sue's sake, but he was still Finn after all. He might have been good enough not to put the moves on her, but if she was putting the moves on him, he wasn't about to say 'no.' Sue's mouth was open and waiting and he slipped his tongue in, reveling in the warmth she provided. He still had one hand on her hip and he let his other hand anchor itself on the other side. He tightened his grip and lifted her slightly, setting her on the counter to relieve some of the height difference between them.

Sue's hands wound themselves around his neck and into his slightly overgrown, sandy locks, pulling his head closer. So far she was definitely not regretting kissing him. He tasted faintly of whiskey from the Jack and Cokes he had consumed, and his tongue moved nimbly over hers. If the fog in her head weren't so dense, she would have wondered why she had never done this before.

Finn's lips moved away from hers, trailing open moth kisses over her jaw and down her neck, his tongue lapping the salt from her skin. As he made his way across a particularly sensitive spot, Sue groaned and let her head fall back in pleasure.

"Oof," she grunted, pulling away in pain as her skull made contact with the brass knob of the cabinet behind her. She took her hands away from the back of his head and placed it on the back of her own.

"Kitten?" he quickly asked, "you okay?" He wanted to make sure she was alright, but he was also concerned this break in action would give her a chance to reconsider what was happening. He seriously hoped she wasn't going to change her mind

She massaged her scalp, grimacing slightly, but nodded in the affirmative. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You want Finny to kiss it all better?" he grinned cheekily. He prayed for a saucy response that would indicated that she wasn't having second thoughts.

"Nah," she smirked back at him, "I've got more important tasks for those lips of yours. Besides," she added suggestively, glancing down towards his crotch, "kissing head is only fun when I'm the one doing it."

Finn groaned, his eyes rolling back at the imagery. If he wanted a saucy response, he sure as hell got one. "Oh please God, don't toy with me."

"Be a good boy…" she smiled wickedly, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him closer, pressing her center against his extremely hard member.

"I don't think so, Kitten. I'm feeling _very_ naughty," he growled.

"Mmm, I'm a _big_ fan of naughty," she informed him, placing a kiss on the angle of his jaw and slipping a hand between them, dipping it underneath the waistband of his boxers. "Maybe we should go be naughty in the bedroom," she whispered in his ear.

His only response was a low, guttural growl as he scooped her up off the table, her legs still wrapped around him, and carried her to his bed.

Finn deposited her on the mattress and went to join her, but she held out a hand in protest. "Stop," she instructed him; he paused and cocked his head to the side in confusion, "strip," she added matter-of-factly.

Finn smiled. "Bossy; me likes." He wasted no time in losing his shirt, his boxers quickly following.

"Turn," she commanded next. She'd heard stories of Naked Finn. Sure, they were mostly in jest, but _she_ was certainly enjoying the view. Finn spun around, hands over his head as though he was doing a pirouette, and ended with a bow.

Sue settled further back on to the bed and finally beckoned him to join her, crooking and finger in his direction. Finn climbed on to the bed and slowly started crawling towards her. Just as he was on top of her, she slipped out from beneath him and climbed off the bed. Finn collapsed face first onto the covers.

"Torture, Kitten, you're pure evil."

"Well, you stripped for me, I only figured it was fair that I returned the favor," she replied in her best innocent voice. No one ever said a girl couldn't have a little fun, did they? At her words, Finn instantly perked up, rolling onto his back and sitting at attention.

Sue slowly, teasingly strolled over to the rack of CDs that covered an entire wall of the room, running her hand gently over the stacks sorted by genre, and pulling one out. "Britney?" she asked, turning back to him and quirking an eyebrow.

"You can analyze my music choices later, Kitten. I believe you promised me a show."

Instead of responding, Sue just opened the plastic case and extracted the CD from within. She pressed a button on the stereo nearby and placed the disc inside. After a moment _Hit Me Baby_ started to play. "It's the whole school girl thing, isn't it?" she inquired, meandering back towards the bed.

"Umm sure," he answered hoping to speed up this process. She was driving him insane.

"Have you ever had a fantasy about me, Finn?" she inquired, her voice low and seductive. "Short, plaid skirt; tie; pigtails; flat on my back on the teacher's desk?"

"In my fantasies of you, Kitten, you're mostly not wearing anything at all, although, now that you mention it—I definitely think plaid would work on you."

"Nothing?" she asked, referring back to the first half of his statement, "you mean like this?" She slipped one strap of her tank top off her shoulder, freeing her arm and then did the same to the other side. She pushed the fabric down towards her waist, exposing her chest. She continued to wriggle out of her clothes, pushing the shirt, boy shorts, and thong she wore, all off at once.

Finn blinked twice, taking in all of her soft, sexy curves. "Yep," he confirmed, "definitely like that."

"And what did you do with me once I was all naked?" she asked, crawling onto the bed.

"The things I did to you, Kitten, are far too dirty for words," he growled. He reached out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards him.

Once she was on top of him, she pushed him back until his head hit the pillows. His hands instinctively moved to touch her extremely enticing cleavage, giving her breasts a squeeze and running his thumbs over her pert nipples. "And what about the things I did to you?" she whispered seductively, reaching between them to grab his hardened cock, giving it a quick squeeze.

He groaned unintelligibly and she leaned down to kiss him. "You like that," she whispered. It wasn't really a question.

"Fuck yes."

She kissed her way down over his chest. "It's not really my hand you want on our dick, though, is it?"

"Don't really have and complaints, Kitten, though I can think of a few parts of you that are higher up on the list."

"And what parts might those be?" she asked, continuing to place open-mouth kisses over his chest and down to his navel.

"That sweet little mouth of yours has had some pleasantly dirty surprises so far tonight. I wouldn't mind seeing what other tricks it's got."

"My mouth, huh, so you'd like it if I kissed you?" she asked, pressing her lips to his shaft. "Or would you prefer me to lick?" she asked, darting her tongue out over him.

He moaned, fighting the urge to flip them over and just have his way with her. As crazy as she was making him, he was really loving the whole take-charge thing she had going on. "But I bet what you _really _want," she continued, letting her breath whisper over his hardness, "is for me to suck the cum right out of you." She wrapped her lips around his tip and lowered her head onto him, drinking him like a straw, and coming back up again. "Or maybe those aren't the lips you want around you at all."

He couldn't take it anymore. "Frangers in the draw," he managed to sputter, letting his right hand flop outwards in some semblance of a pointing motion.

"What?" she chuckled.

"Condoms," he clarified his slang.

"I love it when you talk Aussie to me," she told him, reaching towards the bedside table to grab one of said condoms.

"Piss, footy, dob," he quickly rattled off.

"Ooh, baby, you are making me hot," she teased, unwrapping the foil package and removing the rubber from within. She rolled the condom onto him and slowly lowered herself down, allowing just the tip of him entrance. He hissed in pleasure. "Tell me more."

"Chunder, bloke, sheila," he added as she continued to tease him. He pushed himself up on his forearms, trying to get deeper into her. After a few more minutes of torture, she finally slid all the way down. Instinctively his hips bucked up to meet hers. The feel of her was beyond unbelievable as she rocked on top of him, and the view of her moving above him, shapely breasts bouncing as she circled her hips, was incredible. He had seen many a beautiful woman, but Sue put them all to shame as far as he was concerned.

He tried to hold out as long as possible and finally, just as he was sure he was going to lose it, she climaxed and he immediately let his own release over take him. Sue collapsed on top of him, panting heavily as she caught her breath.

She finally found enough energy to move off of him and fell limply on her back beside him. After everything that had just happened between them, it was at that moment that Sue felt awkward. Sex wasn't a problem; it wasn't as though she lacked for experience. It was just that for the most part, that experience had come in the form of a steady relationship. She had had one other one night-stand before and it had been nothing like this. For one, she didn't really know the guy. He had been a friend of a friend and they had both been extraordinarily drunk. They had passed out immediately afterwards and she had sneaked away in the wee hours of the morning, just after coming, too.

So, while she was confident in her abilities to please a man during sex, she wasn't quite so sure of herself in this unusual 'after' situation. How was this supposed to go? Did his partners usually stay? Or did they leave? But if she left, where was she going to go—one room over? That seemed more than a little silly. On the other hand, staying could just result in continued awkwardness. She had to figure out what Finn was expecting.

"God, I don't think I can move," she sighed, only half feigning exhaustion—her muscles really did feel like jelly.

"Me either, Kitten," he mumbled, but contrary to his words, he turned over, allowing one of his long, slim yet tone arms to fall over her waist. He buried his face into her shoulder.

She supposed that answered her question. She was going to go out on a limb and guess he wasn't expecting her to leave just yet. She tried to relax; he clearly wasn't feeling strange about this, so why should she? Besides, Finn's bed w_as_ awfully comfortable and she had almost forgotten how nice it was to fall asleep next to a warm body. She slowly began to relax into the king-sized mattress below her until she finally slipped into unconsciousness.


	7. WakeUp Calls

**AN: The big author's note is going to be at the end this time. All I have to say right now is...please don't throw stones at me.**

* * *

It wasn't the sunlight that woke Logan—nothing but artificial light filtered through their windows that early in the morning. Maybe it was simply the lack of warmth to his left that had become so familiar throughout the past several months. Whatever it was, Logan felt consciousness seeping back into his body. He automatically rolled over onto his side to get closer to his fiancé before fully comprehending that she wasn't there. "Ace?" he mumbled hoarsely into his pillow as his arm landed on cool sheets. Sitting up to search for her, he craned his head to the side to see if there was any light streaming from the direction of the bathroom—there wasn't any. He rubbed his eyes sleepily as he pulled himself out of the bed completely. Trying to ignore the over-active thumping in his chest, he contemplated which way to go. Perhaps she just had trouble sleeping and had gone to read a book in the library. It wouldn't be the first time he found her curled up in one of their leather chairs—a worn book still open in her lap as she snored lightly due to the unusual angle her neck had landed in when she dozed off.

He was about to take his first step towards the hallway when something stopped him; a barely audible whimper coming from the direction of the master bathroom. He froze, straining to hear past the sounds of traffic coming from the New York City street. He heard it again. In an instant, his bare feet were padding towards the darkness of the bathroom. There was something wrong; he was sure of it. He should have listened to his gut on the way home last night and insisted she go to the hospital. Pushing the door open, he flicked on the light. The soft whimpering was replaced with an agonal groan as the light registered with the girl curled in the fetal position on the cool bathroom tile—her head resting on the shaggy bathmat. She turned her face further into the mat to escape the light and clutched her stomach more tightly, bringing her knees even further into her chest.

"Rory," he said, trying to keep the panic in his voice to a minimum. He fell to his knees at her side. He rested his hand on the back of her head and he noticed that her hair was drenched with sweat despite the fact that the thermostat in the house was always set at a comfortable seventy-two degrees.

"Logan," she replied, though it seemed to take every ounce of energy in her to manage to speak.

"Yeah, baby, I'm here," he responded automatically, pushing her soaking wet hair out of her face. Her skin was ice cold. This wasn't just some stomach flu—he needed to get her to the hospital.

"It hurts," she mumbled.

"Your stomach?"

She nodded weakly in confirmation. "And shoulder," she added.

There wasn't too much time for Logan to ponder this strange, additional pain as he scooped her up in his arms. Perhaps she had just been lying on it wrong. He carried her honeymoon style, afraid that the fireman technique would put too much pressure on her painful abdomen. He didn't even take time to bother with getting dressed—he was at least in sweatpants and a t-shirt and she had on flannel pajama bottoms and a tank-top. The car was parked in a reserved spot right in front of their building and he wasted no time in getting her into the passenger seat. He came around to the driver's side and slipped into place.

"Ace, you still with me, babe?" he asked as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Where are we?" she mumbled weakly. She had been too out of it to even register him removing her from the bathroom.

"The car," he informed her, "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"Logan, no" she protested weakly. She hated hospitals. She just wanted to curl up in a little ball and try to make the pain go away.

"You're going to stop me?" he asked pointedly as he pulled out into the already bustling city traffic—though, it was barely four AM. She didn't bother to argue, just shifted uncomfortably in the seat of his Porsche. Logan chanced a glance at her and noticed that her eyes were closed. He wasn't sure what was wrong with her, but he couldn't help but think this was like those situations on TV where you had to make sure the person didn't fall asleep, even though they wanted to. "Ace, baby, I need you to talk to me."

"It hurts," she mumbled again. It was pretty much the only thought that she could focus on. Nothing had ever hurt so badly; not even the time she had appendicitis when she was twelve.

"I know," he admitted, "but we're not going to think about that. Let's think about something good, okay?" he replied as calmly as he could. "What do you want to talk about?" She didn't respond. Logan took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his erratic heart beat. "Ace?"

"Hmm," she mumbled in response. It was a small relief—at least she was still conscious.

"I know, we haven't decided where our honeymoon is going to be." He threaded his hand into hers and tried not to wince when he felt how cold and clammy is was. He massaged it gently, trying to get some circulation back into it. "You've always wanted to go to Greece, right?"

"Cold."

"You're cold?" he asked her. She definitely felt cold to him, but she was still slicked in sweat.

"No, Greece in January."

He let out a breath he'd been holding, glad to see that she was being somewhat responsive. "Yeah, that is more of a summer get-away," he admitted. "Where were you thinking of?"

She actually managed a small smile at the thought of her honeymoon, despite the persistent, stabbing pains in both her abdomen and the point of her shoulder. She tried to focus her thoughts on the topic and stop thinking about the pain. She knew the perfect place for a honeymoon. "Mexico."

That surprised Logan. Rory wasn't exactly the Cancun type of girl. It seemed way to 'spring-break' for her. "Really?"

"The Mayan Riviera," she clarified softly. She attempted to squeeze his hand but she couldn't make the muscles work.

Logan gave her a comforting smile—she never ceased to amaze him. She really had come up with a perfect destination—one that fit for both of them. There was scuba diving and tropical beaches—which meant Rory in a bikini—for him, and the Mayan ruins and culture for her.

He managed to keep her somewhat engaged in the conversation for a few more minutes, though it felt more like a few hours to him. Finally, he pulled in front of the emergency room at Mt. Sinai and stopped the car, rushing out and around to get his fiancé out as well. He scooped her back into his arms, not bothering to even ask if she thought she could walk, and carried her into the hospital.

He staggered to the front desk, and, seeing the half conscious girl in his arms, the triage nurse quickly took over, calling for a gurney and doctor. Before Logan knew what was happening, Rory was being rushed away from him. He tried to follow, but the nurse from the desk stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"They'll be back with word as soon as they know anything," she promised him in a soothing voice. "Right now, I need you to give me as much information as possible so I can give it to the doctor."

Logan continued to stare in the direction they had taken Rory for a few more moments, before finally turning back to the nurse and nodding in agreement. She ushered him back to the triage station and sat him down, picking up a clipboard with a stack of forms on it. "Name?" she asked him.

"Rory—umm, I mean Lorelai," he corrected himself, remembering that full names were probably important, "Lorelai Gilmore."

"And she's your wife?"

"Fiancé, actually."

"Birthday?" she continued.

"October 8, 1984."

"Allergies to medications?"

"I don't think so. I'm…I'm not positive though."

"That's alright," she assured him with an encouraging nod, "is there any chance she might be pregnant?" the woman asked next.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the night not too long ago when he found out he might be a father, and the following day when he found out he wasn't. At least there was no baby involved in this. He shook his head in the negative. "We thought…" he started, then paused and took a deep breath, "…but then she got her period."

"Do you remember the date?"

"May…" He counted back the weekends, "twenty-something, I think."

"Very good," she told him, noting the information on the paper in front of her. She continued peppering him with questions about what had happened and what insurance coverage Rory had. Logan gave her the name of the insurance company, but informed her that he had left the house in such a rush that he hadn't brought her purse with the card in it.

"It doesn't matter; whatever she needs, even if it's not covered—we can pay. And a private room," he added, "she should have a private room."

"Right now we just need to figure out what's going on, sir," she told him gingerly. "Once Miss Gilmore is stable, we can figure out where she'll be." Logan nodded his head in agreement. "We'll also need you to get the insurance card as soon as you can," she reminded him. "That's it for now. If you'd like directions to the cafeteria or something…" Logan immediately shook his head. He didn't want to go anywhere until he knew Rory was safe.

"Can I make a call?"

"You'll have to step outside," she told him, pointing towards the sliding glass doors of the entrance. Logan looked at them hesitantly. "If there's any news I'll make sure they come and get you."

"Thanks," he replied mechanically before standing up and making his way outside.

* * *

An annoying ringing noise invaded Sue's slumber, causing her to stir, and automatically her arm reached out towards the nightstand—feeling around for the offending object. She encountered the cordless phone and picked it up without thinking. "Hello?" she mumbled.

"Umm, is Finn there?" a shaky voice asked through the phone line.

"Logan?" she asked, clutching the sheets to her body and looking over her shoulder at the still sleeping Finn. She winced slightly, afraid both of waking Finn, and of Logan figuring out what was going on.

"Sue?" he answered. She slipped out of bed and threw on the oversized dress shirt Finn had been wearing the night before and wrapped it around her without doing up the buttons. "What are you doing there?"

"My apartment flooded," she replied automatically, keeping her voice low. "Finn's letting me crash here."

"Oh," was all he said and Sue was grateful that he either didn't notice—or just didn't mention—her whispering. "I need a favor."

"Sure, what is it?" she replied, louder now that she had made it into the living room. She peaked out the window and noticed that the sky was a faint grey and no sun was visible in the sky yet. She looked down at the watch on her wrist to see that it was 5:30 in the morning.

"Finn has a key to our place. I need one of you to go over there and get Rory's purse and my wallet and bring it to Mt. Sinai."

"The hospital? But I thought you were in Connecticut. What's going on? Is everything okay?" she asked frantically, suddenly much more awake than she had been.

She heard Logan take a deep breath on the other end of the line. "Rory wasn't feeling well, so we decided just to drive home after dinner. I figured it was just some stomach bug or something, but…" he stopped, and Sue could tell he was trying not to cry, which increased her trepidation tenfold.

"Logan?"

"I don't know what's wrong with her, Sue," he croaked out.

"Okay," she said, trying to speak calmly for his benefit, "just stay calm. I'm sure everything's fine. We'll be there as soon as we can. Do you need me to call Lorelai?"

There was a pause on Logan's end of the line, and then she heard another voice speak from afar. "Are you Miss Gilmore's fiancé?" The voice asked Logan.

"That's me," the worried voice of Logan responded, though it was farther away and Sue figured he'd removed the cell phone from his ear.

"I'm Dr. Gibbons. Is there any immediate family around?"

"Her mother's on the way, but she's coming from Connecticut," Logan informed the other voice. At least Sue knew now that Lorelai had already been contacted.

There was another pause, as though the doctor was considering something. "I'm not really supposed to give information out to non-family members…" he began hesitantly.

"But I'm her fiancé," Logan protested adamantly, "we live together, we're getting married…"

"But…" the voice interrupted. "I suppose given the circumstances…I mean, you are the father, right?"

The silence on the line was so complete that Sue wasn't even sure exactly when the call was disconnected until the annoying 'off the hook' beeping began. "Logan?" she yelled into the phone, though he obviously wasn't there anymore, "Logan, what the hell?" She hit the 'end' button and tossed the phone to the couch in frustration, rushing back to the bedroom.

"Finn." She shook the Australian roughly. Finn moaned, but didn't open his eyes.

"Too early, come back to bed." He grabbed one of Sue's arms and tried to tug her back down to the mattress.

"You have to get up, Rory's in the hospital."

"What?" He sat up instantly despite the ungodly hour. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know," Sue admitted, "all I know is…" she trailed off uncertainly.

"What?"

She hesitated for a moment before managing to say what it was she feared was going on. "I think she might have been pregnant."

"Might have _been_?"

"I don't know. I just…don't…." she stopped speaking to choke back a sob.

"Let's go," Finn replied instantly, hopping out of bed. They both threw on the nearest clothing they could find and were out of the apartment in minutes.

* * *

Logan stared blankly at the man whom—judging by his young age—he assumed was an intern. It was a good thing there was a bench behind him, because he had a feeling if he tried to remain standing, he would pass out and then he and Rory would both be in the hospital. He flipped his phone shut and took a seat, dropping his head between his knees like people always told you to do when you were lightheaded. When he finally stopped seeing double, he lifted his head to look at the scrub-clad doctor—he had to be wrong, the apples were just a false alarm. "No."

"You're not? I'm sorry, I just assumed…"

"You must be mistaken—she's not pregnant."

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this way…" Dr. Gibbons tried again, taking a seat next to Logan.

"She had her period."

"Sometimes there can be some light vaginal bleeding in the early stages of pregnancy that can be mistaken for menstruation."

Logan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to process this information—the false alarm hadn't been false after all. "I'm going to be a father?" he asked, almost hopefully.

The young doctor flinched visibly and Logan felt his stomach churn. "I'm sorry," Dr. Gibbons replied. "I didn't mean," he paused, trying to figure out the best way to give the news, "Miss Gilmore had something called an ectopic pregnancy."

"Ectopic, that's when the baby's not where it's supposed to be, right?"

"Correct, in most cases, as with Lorelai—"

"Rory," Logan corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"She goes by Rory."

"In Rory's case," the doctor continued, "the embryo implanted in the fallopian tube—the tube that connects the ovary to the uterus. The tube is very small and can't support a pregnancy for long. Her fallopian tube ruptured as the embryo grew too large for it. There was a lot of internal bleeding. We've started a transfusion, but we need to go in surgically to stop the bleeding and repair the damage."

"But she's going to be alright, right?"

"She's in pretty critical condition right now, but we're doing everything we can," Dr. Gibbons answered, standing back up in anticipation of the end of the conversation.

"And the baby?" Logan asked, already knowing the answer.

Dr. Gibbons let out a sigh. "I'm sorry—even if we'd detected this earlier, we would have had to terminate. Ectopic pregnancies are unable to be carried to term."

Logan willed back the tears he felt forming in his eyes. Rory was going to be alright, she had to be. He had only had her back in his life for a few months, he couldn't lose her. And the baby…they had decided that Rory not being pregnant was for the best, anyhow. They had the rest of their lives to start a family. She could always get pregnant again…unless…

"Doctor," Logan stood up quickly, calling to the retreating man. Dr. Gibbons turned around to face him, "will we be able to get...I mean, she'll be able to get pregnant again, right?"

"Only time will tell for sure," the doctor admitted. "Most of the time women are able to have successful future pregnancies, although the chances of having another ectopic pregnancy are increased. We may have to remove the damaged fallopian tube, but there is another and as long as it's patent I suspect she'll be fine, though it may take a little longer to conceive."

Logan nodded, understanding. "Thank you, Doctor," he acknowledged.

"They're probably finished prepping her for surgery, I should go. I'll be back with an update as soon as it's over."

Dr. Gibbons walked away, disappearing through the sliding glass doors of the hospital. As soon as he was gone from sight, Logan felt his knees give out, and he crumpled back onto the bench, dropping his head into his hands as the tears fell from his eyes.

* * *

**AN: Please don't hate me for taking the story in this direction. I know a lot of you might be disappointed, but I did this for a very calculated reason. Yes, things will be angsty for a little while--this isn't the kind of thing you just get over--but things will lighten up. In fact, this will lead to some rather fun, fluffy things down the road, even though I'm sure you can hardly believe that right now.**

**Also, I am not an MD, I am a DVM, and even then, I've never actually seen an ectopic pregnancy in a dog or a cat, or any other member of the animal kingdom, so take no medical advice or knowledge away from this. That being said, the doctor in me _did_ make sure to thoroughly research things and all of the medical stuff is acurate to the best of my knowledge (by the way, the shoulder pain was due to internal bleeding irratating the nerves by the diaphragm which run up towards the shoulder). If anyone knows any differently, please let me know. Thanks.**

**-Lauren**


	8. Broken Hands and Hearts

**AN: OK, so this is super-duper short, sorry guys. There was going to be another scene in this chapter but it just didn't want to come out. This part has been finished for a week now and I've been trying to get the next part written but it just doesn't want to come out. So, I figured better a short chapter than no chapter. I decided to post what I had and then move on to something different in an attempt to overcome this horrible writer's block I've been having. The only thing I've been able to write this week is my new blog. Fiction just doesn't want to come out of my head onto the page. So, anyway, I hope you enjoy what I HAVE written and I'll try and get something new out to you guys soon.**

* * *

Paris slung her messenger bag over her shoulder as she exited the locker room, ready to head back to her apartment, actually do some of the things she had texted Doyle about earlier, and then pass out for a few hours until she had to be back for her next shift. So far this externship was a bust—bedpan duty was beyond disgusting and there wasn't a whole lot of learning potential to make it worth her while. She'd studied everything she could ever want to know about a urinalysis so that the next time she spotted a patient with red urine, she might get to diagnosis a rare case of paroxysmal nocturnal hemoglobinuria. In the mean time, however, her professional life sucked. At this rate, she was going to be eighty before she achieved her goals of becoming a world-class surgeon and publishing her book.

"_Fuck_!"

Paris rolled her eyes at the sound of some idiot making a jackass out of himself. "Yo, jerkwad, this is a hospital, not a marina—keep the swearing on the boat with the other sailors." Paris turned her attention to the perpetrator, "Huntzberger?" It figured she'd run into him of all people. As if she wasn't already in enough of a bad mood—she had to deal with useless, spoiled, rich boys. She would never understand what Rory saw in him.

"Paris," Logan turned around, noticing Rory's ex-roomate, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, did you just _punch_ that wall?" she asked, putting together the scene before her. Logan was wincing as he shook his fist, the knuckles of which were bloody.

"So what if I did?" he asked despondantly, not having the energy or emotional capacity at the moment to get into it with Paris Gellar. Of all the people he didn't want to deal with at the moment, she was up there on the list right next to his father. He winced again as he attempted to curl his fingers into a fist.

"Well, it _is_ utterly moronic, but your idiocy just gives me something interesting to do, so I'm not complaning." She reached for his injured hand and forcefully pulled it towards her.

"Ow!"

"So, what's got you so pissed off? You crash your precious Mazarati or something?" She began palpating each of Logan's digits one by one.

"No, I didn't…OW!" he shreiked as she pressed on his index finger.

"Ooh, goody, it's broken. I wonder what type of fracture it is. Maybe an oblique, ooh, or maybe a spiral. I wonder if it's displaced." She grabbed him by the wrist and started tugging him along after her.

"Where the hell are you taking me, Paris?"

"Radiology." She scoffed, as though she wanted to tack the word 'duh' on as well.

"What?" He shook his arm out of her iron tight grasp. "No, I'm not going anywhere."

"So, what, are you just going to sit here and wait for them to call you? If you wait to be triaged, you'll never get to see a doctor. _I_ can get you a doctor now."

"I don't need a doctor."

"Says the man in the hospital with the broken finger."

"I'll live," he said flatly. But Rory might not, and to be honest, he wasn't exactly sure how he would manage to live without her. He couldn't think like that though—she would be fine, she had to be. There wasn't a god in the universe that was cruel enough to take her from him now, was there?

And of course, then there was the baby. The baby was already gone. They had lost their first child. He couldn't understand how it could possibly hurt so much to lose something he hadn't even known existed. It wasn't even a baby yet, not really. Just a few cells—a potential baby—and they still had the rest of their lives to make it happen. But somehow an entire future—a million possibilities—were made real and then crushed with just a few short sentences…_You are the father, right?…I'm sorry…Miss Gilmore had something called an ectopic pregnancy…Ectopic pregnancies are unable to be carried to term._ He was sure those words would haunt him for the rest of his life. Their baby was gone.

Logan wasn't going anywhere.

Paris watched in confusion as Logan adamantly took a seat and crossed his arms, flinching visibly as his broken finger came into contact with the opposite arm. It was another moment before her sleep deprived brain realized the obvious. He wasn't there for himself. Still, something wasn't right. It wasn't like Logan Huntzberger to be self-sacraficing. Was it one of his idiot friends he was here with? They could have easily hurt themselves bungee jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge or something equally insane. But then where was the third Stooge? Or maybe it was his father. Would the World soon be mourning the loss of a great business man? The journalism world was in a lot of trouble in her opinion if Logan was about to become CEO of HPG. But Logan hated his father—what were the chances he would be the first to know and be by his side if something had happened? So that only left…

"Rory?" she asked. Logan seemed to shrink into the hard, plastic seat that was supporting him. He almost looked small to Paris like a lost, little child who insisted on staying in one spot until his mother found him. It was a side of Logan she had never seen before—the side that cared about something or someone other than himself—and as much as she hated Logan, and as much as she hated weakness, she couldn't find it in herself to hate him in that moment. He really did love her friend, more than she thought it was possible for someone like him to love anybody.

"She's in surgery."

"Is she okay?"

"She's in surgery, Paris," he snapped.

"You know what I mean." There were a million possibilities. It could have been anything from a broken leg that needed to be set, to a car crash that had smooshed all her vital organs into patte and the idiot in front of her wasn't giving her any information.

"I can't really talk about this right now, Paris. Please, just go away."

"_Logan_!" Paris turned to see two people rushing towards them. She recognized the tall, man as Finn—she had met him a couple of times at Yale—but the girl was new. She had red hair and her green eyes were glistening with tears, but her face was dry. As she reached them, she leaned down and threw her arms around Logan's neck. "How is she?"

"I don't know. I haven't heard anything since they took her into surgery."

The red head pulled back and slapped him upside the head. "What the hell were you thinking hanging up on me like that? I've been having a complete panic attack for the last forty-five minutes. What the hell is going on?"

"I bet you'll tell _them_," Paris grummbled.

"Who are you?" The red head turned to acknowledge her for the first time.

"I'm Paris, who the hell are you?"

"I'm Sue—I'm Rory's best friend."

"No you're not—_I'm_ her best friend."

"Oh, you're _that_ Paris." Sue nodded in understanding. She'd heard tales of crazy Paris Gellar.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Paris hissed in response.

"It's okay, mate," Finn pushed his way between the two arguing girls and sat in the seat next to Logan. "Whatever it is, she'll be fine. That Reporter Girl's a fighter."

"She's gone…" he whimpered.

"What?" Paris and Sue both shreiked at once.

"Or he," Logan continued, "I don't even know. I'll never know now."

Sue took a deep breath and squatted down in front of Logan so she was at eye-level with him. "There was a baby, wasn't there?" He nodded his head in the affimative. "It wasn't a false alarm afterall." This time he shook his head in response. Sue took his left hand in her right and squeezed comfortingly. "What happened, Logan?"

He looked across the room, avoiding making eye-contact with any of them. "The baby was in the wrong spot…" he paused, trying to remember the word the doctor had used. "..ectopic," he finally finished.

"Her fallopian tube ruptured." Paris quickly caught on—it wasn't a question. Logan nodded his head 'yes' anyway.

Sue felt her stomach swim and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to gather herself. She wasn't a doctor, but she knew enough about Rory's condition to know it was serious. She couldn't even imagine what Logan must be feeling knowing that the woman he loved was lying open on an operating table in critical condition. She placed her free hand on top of his, but he immediately flinched away. Sue looked curiously at his withdrawn limb and immediately say how swollen it was—still caked with dried blood over his knuckels.

"What happened to you?" she gasped.

"Come on." Paris held her hand out for him, but Logan ignored it.

"I said I wasn't going anywhere, Paris." He wasn't even going to the bathroom until he knew she was okay—his bladder could explode for all he cared.

"Logan, your hand could be broken."

"It is broken," Paris clarified. "The idiot decided taking his frustrations out on the wall would be a good idea."

"Logan," Sue scolded, "what were you thinking?"

"Well gee," he exploded, "maybe I was thinking my baby was dead and that Rory…" He choked back a sob, "Rory," he repeated, this time nothing more than a horse whisper and fresh tears flooded his eyes.

Sue flung her arms around his neck again. "It's going to be okay," she whispered reassuringly. "This is a great hospital, with great doctors that are going to take great care of her. She's going to get through this."

"You want some coffee, mate?" Finn suggested, trying to offer his help. He didn't know how to do the mushy sentamental stuff, but he cared about Rory and Logan and he wanted to at least do something here.

Logan shook his head. "No."

"You should take care of your hand." Finn nodded towards Logan's injury. "Don't want your girl worrying about _your_ sorry arse when she wakes up, do you?"

This seemed to be the argument that finally got through to him. The last thing Rory needed when she woke up was one more thing to worry about. Logan didn't want to make anything harder for her than he already knew it would be. She would already be devestated when she learned what happened. "Fine," he relented.

"You two can fill out his paperwork. I'll take him back to radiology," Paris delegated.

Logan reluctantly got up from his seat and followed Paris into the hospital.


End file.
